Long Night Till Tomorrow
by Got A Book
Summary: A racket boss, on trial for murder, orders the assassination of star witness Britt Reid. Complications threaten Britt's plan to foil the attempt on his life and endanger the lives of several Sentinel employees.
1. Preface

**THE GREEN HORNET**

**LONG NIGHT TILL TOMORROW**

**Preface**

This story has a long history. The title (from a fabulous Richard Barone song called "Tangled in Your Web") was initially the title of a _Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased)_ fan fiction (the story that eventually became "Have a Little Faith in Me"). In both the original draft of that story and this one I planned on making an extended "character study". Although the initial plan was dropped for both stories, I came closer in this story than in the R&H story.

A number of references are worked into this story. I always loved the way Kato called Britt "Mister Britt" in the radio show and in both serials, so I put that in. The explanation of Britt's rescue of Kato comes from the first movie serial. There's a nod to Walter Brooke's one famous word in _The Graduate_ in the warehouse description. The name "Cherry Street" pays homage to a rather good Frank Sinatra TV movie called _Contract on Cherry Street_. The typed "coded message" is based on the way the _Wahoo Gazette_ (the online recap of _The Late Show with David Letterman_) editor Michael McIntee "codes" profanity. Most notably, I borrowed the name of comedian Tim Wilson for the young reporter. (Tim's a funny man and a good friend. I recommend his show note, however, that he _is_ R-rated.)

The story is set in Detroit (a passing reference to that is made without mentioning the city) in the 60s (as should be evident by the price of the coffee g ) and based on the TV series incarnation of _The Green Hornet_. I hope you enjoy it.

Karen

June 2005


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The defense attorney paced in front of the witness stand. He smiled at the witness, a middle-aged man with an expanding waistline and receding hairline. Both men wore gray business suits, but the lawyer's suit was immaculately pressed, able to pass the inspection of the strictest of drill sergeants. In contrast, the man on the witness stand obviously seemed out of place in his dress clothes.

"Mr. Able," attorney Daniel Sinclair said to the witness, "did you see Judge Branson shot?"

The eyes of the man on the witness stand followed the steps of the man asking the question. "I saw him fall backwards out of his chair," Able replied with a thick southern accent.

"But," Sinclair said, "did you actually **_see_** the alleged assassination?" Sinclair ceased his pacing in front of the witness and turned to face him.

"Oh, there was nothing 'alleged' about it," Able said. "That judge fell backwards out of his chair, dead."

A ripple of laughter went through the courtroom. Even the presiding judge smiled slightly before restoring silence with the bang of his gavel.

"You heard the shot," Sinclair pressed, "but didn't _see_ it being fired, right?"

Able pondered the question as he looked the attorney directly in the eye. "That's right, sir," he replied after a moment of thinking. "I _heard_ the shot, and me and my wife dove for cover."

"So you weren't actually a witness to Judge Branson's assassination, were you?"

Frank Scanlon popped out of his seat at the prosecutor's table like a Jack-in-the-box. "Objection!" he said as he jerked his glasses off his face and dropped them atop the papers in front of him. "Counsel is leading the witness."

Judge Charles Clement, a man about the same age as Frank with more gray in his hair than the District Attorney, tapped his gavel once. "Sustained," he announced. Frank returned to his seat in a better frame of mind than he had left moments earlier.

Sinclair, the youngest of the men on courtroom stage, nodded toward the judge. "My apologies, Your Honor." He returned his attention to the witness. "Let me rephrase the question, Mr. Able. Is it your testimony that you _did_ see Judge Branson react to being shot, but you did _not_ actually see the shot fired?"

Able reacted slowly to the question. "I'm sorry," he said finally, "I don't understand all this highfalutin lawyer talk." Able shrugged amid a few snickers in the court. "We came up here on vacation," Able continued. "We stopped at this restaurant. I was talkin' to my wife. I wasn't payin' real close attention. I wasn't expecting a James Cagney movie to break out in the middle of my dinner!"

Amid another interruption of low-level laughter Sinclair turned from the witness stand. "No further questions, Your Honor."

Judge Clement used his gavel again. "The witness is dismissed," he said. "Court is adjourned until nine o'clock tomorrow morning." The occupants of the courtroom stood as the gavel hit against the sound block. The judge and jury left through doors on opposite sides of the courtroom.

After watching the judge depart Frank looked to his left. Sinclair and his client, the notorious Carl "Cornhusker" Tillman, were staring at the District Attorney with glares that could have been as fatal as the gun used on the murder victim. Tillman gave a parting sarcastic smile to Frank before turning to chat in hushed tones with his attorney.

Frank's attention was drawn from the occupants of the table to his left as Able stopped in front of him. "Have a safe trip back to Tennessee, Mr. Able," Frank said, extending his hand.

"Sorry I wasn't much help, Mr. Scanlon," Able apologized as they shook hands.

"You were a good deal of help, Mr. Able," Frank assured the witness. "You put Tillman in the restaurant at the time of Judge Branson's murder."

For a moment Frank was distracted by the activity at the defendant's table. The police arrived to escort Tillman back to his cell. Tillman handed a man seated in the courtroom directly behind him an envelope then willingly extended his hands to the policeman. The defendant was handcuffed and escorted from the courtroom with Sinclair tailing them.

"I have a witness who saw the whole thing," Frank said to Able. "His testimony will send Tillman to the chair."

* * *

Michael Reeves entered the study. His presence brought an immediate silence in with him. Five men watched Reeves walk to the desk that sat in front of the wall to the right of the room. As Reeves reached the desk a man who was seated on the desk said anxiously, "How'd it go today?"

Reeves looked at the man with disgust. "Get off the desk!" he snapped. The man stood quickly and obediently. Reeves brushed the surface of the desk where the man had sat as if smoothing a wrinkle in his suit. Satisfied no permanent damage was inflicted on the desk, he sank into the chair behind it. "Today was not the problem," he announced to the men in the room. "All we've had thus far are witnesses who gave circumstantial evidence, putting Cornhusker at the restaurant. _Tomorrow_ is the problem, when that newspaperman gets on the stand. He saw Cornhusker pull the trigger."

One of the five men, a tall man with unkempt dark hair and a suit to match, asked, "So, what does Mr. Tillman want us to do?"

Reeves removed a folded sheet of paper from an inside pocket. He examined the typed nonsense on the paper: "LO: NTOYY TROF OM S ESU YJSY FPRD MPY O,¼:OVSYR ID."

"Delmore," Reeves said, extending the paper away from him. In response a blond-haired man stepped forward and took the paper from Reeves. "Translate, please." Delmore nodded and went to a smaller desk on the opposite side of the room. He took a seat and wound the sheet of paper around the platen. Reeves smiled as he watch Delmore type. "I think I know what it says," he announced. "Delmore? Is the first word of the message, 'kill'?" Delmore looked at what he had typed and nodded.

* * *

"Miss Case? Are you free tonight?"

"Yes," Lenore Case replied.

Everyone who worked at the _Daily Sentinel_ called Britt Reid's secretary "Casey". That suited her fine. "Casey" was preferable to "Lenore", which she considered too old-fashioned a name. The notable exception, at least in the office, was Britt Reid himself, who stuck to formalities.

"Good. Would you like to go to dinner?"

The muscles in Casey's jaws clenched together forcefully as if her physical being knew to override her emotional desire to scream, "Yes, I'd _love_ to go to dinner with you!" at the top of her lungs. "That'd be great," she smiled, unsure of how long she could keep her glee from showing. "What's the occasion?"

Britt stood and left his executive desk. He stopped directly in front of Casey. "No occasion," he said. "I _can_ reward you for doing an excellent job by taking you out to dinner, can't I?"

Casey's brown eyes darted around the room quickly before her gaze returned to Britt's handsome face. She wore a knee-length dark blue dress with a gold bee shaped broach pinned near the top. Her dark blond hair was neatly pinned up. "Sure," she said, still surprised by Britt's invitation.

"Is eight good?"

"It's great," Casey said. She grimaced to herself immediately after she spoke. The reply sounded too urgent to her ears. "What restaurant do you have in mind?" she added quickly, as much a genuine question as to take her own mind off her fears of overreacting.

Britt shrugged. "Is a quaint little steakhouse sufficient?"

"Gee, I was hoping for a hamburger joint," Casey teased.

"No hamburger joint," Britt said with a grin. "That's where the _Sentinel_ Christmas party is going to be this year."

A knock on Britt's office door interrupted the conversation. He looked at his closed door. The door opened and Mike Axford charged in before Britt could answer the knock. Mike was an older man with a bubbling enthusiasm that seemed unusual for someone who had been in the same occupation for decades.

"Afternoon, Casey," he greeted Britt's secretary with a pat to her shoulder.

Casey started for the door. "I'll leave you two alone," she said.

"Thanks, Miss Case," Britt called sarcastically.

"Tim just got in from the courthouse," Mike announced as he walked to Britt's desk. He stopped and turned to his right. No one was next to him. His eyes traced the path to the entrance, where a young man stood timidly peering into the office. Mike motioned for the man, but he remained just outside the door.

The young man was slender and neatly dressed. He backed away from the door when Casey approached. "Hi, Miss Case," he said shyly. As a newer _Sentinel_ employee, he addressed everyone formally.

"You can go on in," Casey said with a gesture of her thumb toward Britt's private office. The man smiled but remained just outside of the door.

Britt smiled at the young man. "Come in, Tim," he called. The man tentatively walked into the office after receiving permission from Britt. "You're doing an excellent job covering the trial," Britt complimented as he leaned against the front of his desk.

"Thanks, Mr. Reid," Tim Wilson said with a bashful smile. An expression of apprehension dominated his handsome face. "I don't like it, though," he confessed. "This is Mr. Axford's beat, not mine."

"Don't worry," Mike said with a smile and a pat to Tim's shoulder. "I'm not heading out to pasture yet. It's only temporary."

"That's right, Tim," Britt confirmed. "Mike may be called as a witness for the prosecution since he was in the restaurant with me. Therefore, he can't cover the trial. Tillman's lawyer might claim 'conflict of interest' or accuse us of trying to use the paper to sway the jury. The D.A. has waited too long to nab this guy, and I don't want to see a mistrial."

Mike's jovial nature disappeared. "I don't mind telling you, Boss, I wish I could tear into Tillman."

"Listen, Mike," Britt said, extending his right index finger toward the reporter for emphasis, "if you get on that witness stand, leave your opinion of Tillman out of it. Stick to the facts."

Mike nodded. "Don't worry about me, Boss," he assured.

Britt smiled. "If Mr. Scanlon gets the guilty verdict I'm expecting him to get, I'll let you write the editorial. How about that?"

Mike's face suddenly brightened like a light turned on. "Great!"

Britt turned his attention to the young reporter who was noticeably uncomfortable in the presence of the owner of the newspaper. "How did the trial go today, Tim?"

"Well, Mr. Scanlon won most of the objections," Tim replied, "and I think his witnesses did a good job of putting Tillman at the scene of the crime. Tillman's lawyer kept pointing out that none of them saw Tillman pull the trigger, but I don't think it had much effect."

"Don't worry about that," Britt said, "I _did_ see Tillman pull the trigger."

"What's his lawyer like?" Mike asked.

"He's one of those 'kill them with kindness' types," Tim replied, happy to turn his attention away from his employer to the veteran reporter. "Every time Mr. Scanlon won an objection he'd apologize like a school boy caught taking cookies." Tim frowned slightly, revealing dimples in his boyish cheeks. "I found that pretty annoying."

Mike patted Tim on the back with both hands. "C'mon," Mike said gleefully, "let me see your notes about the trial today!"

As Mike neared the door Casey reappeared at the entrance. She and Mike nearly bumped into each other. "Oh, sorry, Casey," Mike said, taking a step back to allow Britt's secretary into the office.

"What's your hurry, Mike?" Casey asked with a smile. "You won't have to testify until tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest."

Mike laughed. "I'm gonna go over the kid's notes," he said with a gesture of his head in Tim's direction.

"See you later, Miss Case," Tim said quietly as he walked past her and out the door.

Casey watched through a plate glass window as the two men walked out of her office adjacent to Britt's and into the city room. She turned to her boss with a smile. "Tim's a nice kid," she commented.

Britt nodded. "Timid, shy, polite." Britt paused for a moment then added, "Think some of that will rub off on Mike?" He winked at Casey and smiled.

Casey laughed in response to Britt's joke. "Mr. Scanlon's here to see you," she announced.

"Send him in," Britt said. Casey stepped back into her office to escort Britt's guest. She returned momentarily with Frank Scanlon two steps behind her. Britt met Frank halfway into the office. "Hi, Frank," he said, warmly shaking the District Attorney's hand.

"My star witness," Frank said with a smile. He took a seat in a chair in front of Britt's desk.

"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Scanlon?" Casey offered.

"Please."

After Casey left to get coffee Britt leaned against the front of his desk. "How's it going?" he asked.

Frank raised his eyebrows. "Not bad," he replied. "You never can tell what the jury's thinking, though. The last witness today was the man from Tennessee. He was very 'folksy,' I guess you'd say, obviously honest."

The phone hidden on a moveable shelf beneath Britt's desk rang. Britt walked behind the desk and pulled the shelf out to see which line was ringing and if the call was worth interrupting his visit with Frank over. His eyebrows rose slightly when he noticed his private line was blinking. Only three people had the private line number, two of which were within Britt's sight. He put the receiver to his ear and pushed the blinking button. "Kato?" he answered with the name of the third person with access to the number. "What's up?"

Kato Ikano stood at Britt's desk in the den in his home. The handsome young man wore a white shirt and serving jacket with a black bow tie and trousers. "Sorry to disturb you at work," he said, "but I thought you'd want to hear this. Michael Reeves has word out on the street that he is looking to hire the Green Hornet."

Britt's brow wrinkled. "Michael Reeves? Cornhusker Tillman's right-hand man? What does he want with the Green Hornet?"

"The Green Hornet?" Frank repeated upon hearing the name.

"Hang on a second, Kato," Britt said into the phone. He lowered the phone from his mouth slightly to speak to Frank. "Reeves has put the word out that he wants to hire the Green Hornet."

The mysterious man in the green mask was considered by many, especially reporter Mike Axford, to be a worse malefactor than Capone, Dillinger, and Bonnie and Clyde combined. For all the successes during his tenure as District Attorney, Mike considered Frank Scanlon a failure because the Green Hornet had not been apprehended, and Mike lambasted Frank on numerous occasions for that. As editor and publisher of the _Daily Sentinel_, Britt used his veto authority to remove Mike's tirades against the D.A. before they reached the printing press.

"What does he want with the Green Hornet?" Britt repeated to Kato.

"He wants to hire him to kill you," Kato replied.

Britt smiled. "Okay, Kato, get ready to roll. I'll be home in half an hour." Britt hung the phone up and closed the shelf door with his right hand.

"What's up?" Frank asked.

Casey appeared at the door with two cups of coffee in her hand. Britt met Casey halfway and took the coffee from her. "Close the door, please," he said. After Casey shut the door Britt's said, "I'm sorry, but I have to postpone our dinner engagement for this evening."

_I knew it was too good to be true_, Casey lamented to herself.

"I have a good excuse," Britt continued, handing a cup to Frank and setting the other coffee on his desk. "It seems Tillman's muscle man wants to hire the Green Hornet to kill me."

Casey chuckled. "Well, if _that's_ all it is…"

Frank watched a mental replay of the final moments Tillman had been in the courtroom at the end of the day's proceedings. "Now that you mention it," he said, "Tillman handed someone a note right before he was escorted back to his cell."

"Well, now we know what the note said," Britt said. He started for the door. "If you'll excuse me," he said with a grin, "I have to go prepare for my execution."

Casey and Frank laughed at Britt's parting remark. Neither of them feared the threat of the Green Hornet attacking Britt. They both knew the man behind the mask was Britt Reid.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

A black sedan pulled to a stop on the street outside of Michael Reeves' house. The home was a large brick ranch style dwelling with a small front yard. The double driveway had space for one car length between the door of the garage and the sidewalk. A chain link fence enclosed the large back yard shaded with numerous trees. The other houses on the sparsely populated block were similarly designed.

Two masked men emerged from opposite sides of the car. The driver was dressed as a chauffeur. His clothing, cap, mask, and gloves were black. The man who had been in the back seat wore green and black with a green mask and hat.

Neither man spoke. They were accustomed to working together. Additionally, when they arrived at a destination they knew what they were going to do. Quick, surprise arrivals were an important part of the workings of the Green Hornet.

The two men ignored the front door. They moved toward the back of the house, walking past the garage to the fence. The Hornet quickly inspected the fence for signs of an alarm. He then put his gloved hands on the top rail and jumped the fence, smoothly swinging both feet clear of the fence. He landed in the yard facing the fence. Kato took a different route over the fence. He took three steps backward then ran at the fence, leaping into the air. His right foot momentarily landed on the top rail. As if he was walking on level ground, he brought his left foot in front of him and pushed off the rail with his right foot. He landed next to the Hornet, facing in the opposite direction. The Hornet smiled slightly at Kato's feat as both men turned their attention to the house.

A large window caught their attention. The men moved in unison to the window. The opened curtains permitted them to peer inside, and the raised window that allowed the cool early evening air in the house also let the conversation filter out.

Michael Reeves paced in front of his desk. He had long since discarded the suit jacket he had worn while sitting behind Cornhusker Tillman in court. The brown jacket was draped over the left arm of the chair. Three of the five men who had been in the study earlier were gone, leaving only Delmore and Porter, the man who had made the error of sitting on Reeves' desk, occupying the room with him. Delmore reclined on a sofa, but the Porter was standing, nervous because of Reeves' incessant motion. Porter scratched his curly black hair and said quietly, almost as if he expected another reprimand for having sat on Reeves' desk, "What are we gonna do?"

"Wait," Reeves snapped as he abruptly ceased pacing, "and I don't like it. Cornhusker's been in jail awaiting trial for three months. He should've thought about this _then_, when it wouldn't arouse suspicion." The anger and frustration distorted his facial features. "If Britt Reid gets so much as a hangnail before he testifies tomorrow, it's going to look like Cornhusker's behind it. That's why we have to wait for the Green Hornet."

"Your wait is over," came a voice from near the window.

Reeves spun to face the window. The Green Hornet stepped away from the window, Kato behind him like a lethal shadow. The Hornet walked to Reeves, stopping within inches of the man. "Start talking," he said, looking down at the man who was half a foot shorter.

Reeves backpedaled a few steps but the Hornet matched him stride for stride. "I see you got my message."

"Yes," the Hornet replied. "Let me guess why you contacted me. You want Britt Reid silenced so he doesn't testify against your boss tomorrow, is that correct?"

Reeves nodded. "How much would you charge for your…" He paused for emphasis. "Services," he concluded with a smile and raised eyebrows.

"One hundred thousand dollars, paid tonight after I fulfill my part of the bargain."

The smile vanished from Reeves' face. "What?"

"I have a motive that will keep Tillman from being under suspicion – revenge against Britt Reid for all his editorials in the _Sentinel_. The assassination will be accepted as the work of the Green Hornet, and Tillman will go free. That's a small price to pay, wouldn't you say?"

"I don't have that kind of money here."

"Get it. I'll be back to collect when I've done the job."

"I'm going with you," Reeves said.

"What?"

"I want to see Reid killed."

"Let's get something straight," the Hornet snarled. "I'm not running a taxi service. I don't have room or time for passengers. If you don't trust me, then you can keep your money, and Cornhusker Tillman can keep his date with the executioner."

"Cornhusker's not going to dish out that kind of money unless he has a witness to verify it was done. I either go as a witness, or no deal."

The Hornet nodded. "All right," he said, "I'll give you a compromise. You follow me in your car." The Hornet pushed the sleeve of the green overcoat on his left arm up. "I'll be back in two hours," he announced. He turned for the door. Kato walked past Reeves to join the Hornet, watching cautiously as he stepped for any threatening movement. "We should have this done by ten," the Hornet said before he walked out the study door. "Have the money ready by then." Kato closed the door as he left behind the Hornet.

The two men returned to their car, nicknamed the Black Beauty, and left the street. Once away from Reeves' house Kato looked in the rear view mirror. "What now?" he asked.

The Hornet shook his head. "I wish I knew," he sighed. He watched outside the window while collecting his thoughts. An idea suddenly hit him. He turned around and picked up a mobile telephone mounted behind the back seat. A row of buttons automatically dialed various numbers. The Hornet punched one of the buttons then put the receiver to his ear.

Frank Scanlon sat at his desk in his office, catching up on some necessary paperwork. One of the drawbacks to handling the Tillman case himself was that he had to leave court and put in an additional three or four hours at the office. He could have assigned any one of a dozen fully qualified lawyers in his office to prosecute the case, but Frank chose to present the state's case himself. The fact that an elected official such as a municipal judge was murdered in public made the trial personal for Frank.

"Scanlon," he answered his phone when it rang.

"Frank? I need your help."

Frank laid the papers in his hands down on his desk. "Yes, Britt?"

"We've got problems. Reeves wants to go along to make sure Britt Reid is killed."

"Oh, boy," Frank sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to drive my car to a deserted place so the Green Hornet can blow it up."

"What?" Frank shouted into the receiver. "Britt, is your hat on a bit too tight?"

"How soon can you be at my house?"

Frank looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes."

"Good. I'll explain when you get there."

Frank sighed. "I'd hate to have your car insurance bill after you turn _this_ in." Frank heard his friend laugh over the phone. "I'll see you in twenty minutes."

* * *

Britt Reid's townhouse was located on a street in front of a warehouse. Britt had purchased the warehouse at the same time he bought his home. The townhouse was unimposing, certainly nothing that would indicate a millionaire newspaper and television station owner resided there. The warehouse was leased to a plastics company and was fully operational. Two parts of the warehouse were blocked from the unsuspecting employees. One area housed a driveway that led from the alley to the back of Britt's garage, the route the Black Beauty used to take to the streets. The other off-limits area was a four-foot wide path that snaked along the outer wall in the alley behind Britt's house. The walkway was the passage Frank Scanlon used to sneak into Britt's home.

Frank parked his car by a ramp just outside of the alley. He walked into the alley and ducked into the passageway, moving a board that hung partially across the entrance. He walked the length of the alley to an elevator disguised as a large packing crate. When he entered the crate he moved three of the ten nails in the side of the crate. The door closed behind him and engaged the elevator, which took him to the roof. Once on the roof he went to a chimney and pressed on three bricks in a prearranged sequence. The brick wall slid open, revealing another one-person elevator. He stepped inside and the elevator started down what had once been the chimney for the fireplace in Britt Reid's den. The entire trip took less than ninety seconds.

A tone sounded in the den. Britt moved three books amid the tomes in the shelves behind his desk. The fireplace wall rose as the cage with Frank inside reached the bottom. A step popped out, but in Frank's urgency to speak with Britt about the threat on his life he eschewed its use, choosing instead to jump the eighteen inches to the floor. Instead of a greeting, Frank said, "What is going on?"

Britt stood behind his desk, dressed in the dark gray jacket with black trousers he had worn at his office. Kato stood next to the desk, his mask and cap lying on the edge of Britt's desk. "Reeves complicated things," Britt sighed, "but there's a way around it."

Britt pulled a map out of a drawer in his desk then spread the map on the desk. "Here's what we're going to do," he said. "The Green Hornet has to meet Reeves in an hour and a half so he can witness the assassination." Britt pointed to a place on the map he had circled. "You know Knight Park?" Frank nodded. "This is a perfect place, a dead end." Britt folded the map up. "There's a mom-and-pop diner about a quarter of a mile from Knight Park. Drive there in your car, and I'll pick you up."

Frank looked at his friend. "You're really going to blow your own car up?"

"Unfortunately, Reeves hasn't left me much of an option." Britt managed a smile. "It's time for a new car, anyway." Britt looked at his watch. "I have to meet Reeves at 9:15." He turned around and tilted the three books in his bookcase again, causing the fireplace wall to open. "Let's get going."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

As he drove past the outskirts of town where Knight Park was located, Frank contemplated the magnitude of the crime that had been ordered and was about to be staged. Any man who would shoot a judge in a crowded restaurant would think nothing of ordering a witness to be killed as well. He had no tangible proof, but Frank's intuition told him that Carl "Cornhusker" Tillman's blatant display of disregard for human life was the very reason so many of the patrons in the restaurant that awful day three months earlier had developed selective blindness or amnesia when questioned about the murder. Of the 20 customers in the restaurant, only Britt Reid admitted to seeing Tillman shoot Judge Branson. Frank knew that Britt, much like his father before him, possessed no fear of criminals like Tillman and his thugs. The unshakable testimony of a well-respected businessman would most likely serve as a millstone around Tillman's neck, a fact that made Britt dangerous in Tillman's eyes.

Frank parked his car in the parking lot of the Good Knight Diner, which sat near the entrance to Knight Park. He went inside and ordered a cup of coffee to go. By the time he left with his purchase Britt had pulled in the parking lot in his white convertible with the top up. Britt slid across the seat into the passenger seat as Frank approached the driver's door. Frank opened the door and extended the Styrofoam cup in Britt's direction. "Coffee?"

"Are you kidding?" Britt said with a laugh. "It'll keep me up all night and ruin my beauty sleep."

Frank laughed as he got behind the wheel of Britt's car. He removed the lid and poured the coffee out onto the parking lot gravel. "I certainly don't need it," he said as he closed the door. "This has me jittery enough as it is."

Britt's car turned back toward town. After about a mile of driving in silence Britt pointed to a gravel turn-off leading into a wooded area. "Kato's parked in there," he told Frank. Frank pulled off the road, coming to a stop with the driver windows of Britt's car and the Black Beauty aligned. Britt produced a pocket watch from his jacket. He handed the gold timepiece to Frank. "This," he said, pointing to the winding stem, "activates the two-way radio. We'll stay in touch with you."

Frank admired the modification Kato had made to the otherwise normally working watch. "Right," he said.

Britt's finger touched another stem on the watch. "Oh," he said, "and, don't press that button. You'll hear a buzz in your ear if you do."

Frank laughed. The watch also contained a device that signaled a transmitter hidden in the right temple of Frank's glasses. The signal, while invaluable in alerting Frank to prearranged activities of the Green Hornet, was annoying in the District Attorney's ear.

"Good luck," Frank said as Britt walked between the two cars. Kato, in his black uniform and mask, nodded in reply. "'Good luck'," Frank repeated as he watched Britt open the rear door of the Black Beauty. "That may be the understatement of the year." He waved farewell to the two men as he put Britt's car in reverse.

* * *

"You're late!" the Hornet snapped at Michael Reeves through the open window of the Black Beauty's right rear door.

"Sorry," Reeves said. He had just exited the front door of his house, obviously rushed and ill-prepared for his departure as if he were being thrown out of the house rather than leaving voluntarily.

"If you can afford my services," the Hornet said, still aggravated by the lack of punctuality, "you can afford to buy a working wristwatch. If you can't afford one, your rap sheet says you're well-versed enough in stealing to acquire one somehow." Reeves gave a disinterested nod in response to the Hornet's chiding as he stopped at the Hornet's car. "Here's the plan," the Hornet said. "I'm going to give Reid an 'anonymous' call to get him to leave his house. I'll chase him to a deserted place and kill him."

"Why chase?" Reeves said with an expression that indicated he wanted immediate results.

"Simple, Reeves," the Hornet said in his typical gruff tone. "Unlike your boss, I _don't_ want a lot of witnesses. Now, get in your car and let's get going." Reeves turned and started for the blue sedan parked outside of the garage in his driveway. "Reeves?" the Hornet called, causing the man to turn around. "If you can't keep up with me, don't bother."

"I can keep up with you," Reeves snapped as he opened his car door.

Kato laughed after the Hornet rolled his window up. "'I can keep up'," he repeated. "Famous last words."

The two cars drove toward the intended victim's house. As they neared Britt's home the Hornet picked the microphone on the two-way radio up. "Frank?" he called.

Frank sat behind the wheel of Britt's car in front of the townhouse. Britt's fob watch lay on the passenger seat, set for transmission and reception, along with a small reel-to-reel tape player. When he heard the voice come through the watch he picked it up and pressed the stem that Britt had instructed him to use. "Yes, Britt?"

"We're about three blocks away," the Hornet said. "Get ready."

Frank turned the key in the ignition and started the engine. He heaved a deep sigh as he pulled the car into drive. His foot rested on the brake, awaiting the signal from the Hornet to start.

Kato activated the scanner. A compartment in the trunk opened and a scanner rose from its holding place. The scanner flew off into the air. Kato kept an eye on the man in the car behind the Black Beauty via the rear view mirror. "He's watching the scanner," Kato advised.

"Good. That should be enough of a show for him. Recall the scanner." Kato pressed a button and the scanner returned to its compartment in the back of the car. The Hornet depressed the microphone button. "Okay, Frank," he said, "take off."

"Right," Frank replied over the radio.

"Hey," the Hornet said, "drive carefully, huh?"

"I won't put a scratch on it," Frank chuckled. "I'll leave that to you." Frank slid the watch into his suit jacket's breast pocket and started down the street, still sporting the smile caused by his friend's sarcastic remark.

Reeves saw the white convertible about a block ahead of the Black Beauty. His face broke into a grin as the Black Beauty increased speed slightly to chase after Britt's car. Within three blocks Reeves realized he was obeying the speed limit, thereby losing his place in the deadly convoy. He shook his head at the irony of conspiring to murder someone yet worrying about a traffic ticket.

The chase continued at safe speeds until the three cars moved beyond the city limits into the countryside. Frank increased the speed on the car and the Black Beauty followed suit. Reeves gunned his car when he lagged behind the other cars. He momentarily stared in amazement at the speedometer's reading of 70, which still left him tailing at an increasing rate.

Frank saw the wooded area where the Black Beauty had parked during the earlier rendezvous. "We're going to blow some smoke," Frank heard from the watch in his pocket. "That should block Reeves' view so you can make that turn into Knight Park." Frank refused to retrieve the watch to reply. The unusually high rate of speed forced the attorney to keep his hands glued to the steering wheel.

Kato pressed a button amid the two columns of switches on the console beneath his armrest. A mixture of steam and dye, giving the illusion of smoke, billowed from a small opening in the center of the rear bumper. The smoke accomplished its purpose, as Reeves slammed on his brakes to avoid the possibility of hitting whatever caused the sudden onslaught of smoke that blocked his vision.

Frank hit the brakes and negotiated the turn into Knight Park with an ease that surprised him. The Black Beauty followed suit, smoke still shooting out the back end. After Kato straightened the car he turned the smoke off.

Reeves' car slowed to a crawl because of the smoke obstructing his view. "What's going on," he mumbled to himself, bobbing his head from side to side to find a hole in the manmade fog. The smoke quickly dissipated, showing an empty road in front of Reeves. Only the trail of smoke emanating from the side road provided the clue as to where the cars had gone. His heart and his car's speed increased and he turned onto the park's main road. He followed the trail of smoke to a gravel side road, where the dirt from the car's tires caused the gray dust in the air to increase in density again. Reeves moved slowly for a few yards until the air cleared. Ahead of him he saw the stopped Black Beauty. Britt's car had run into a dead end and turned around, approximately fifty feet from the attacking car. The two sets of headlights faced each other.

"Here he comes," Kato said when he saw Reeves pull up.

The Hornet turned toward the back of the car. "Reeves is here, Frank," he called into the trunk where Frank hid. The scanner's compartment doors were open to allow air and conversation into the trunk.

Reeves jumped out of his car and ran to the back door of the Black Beauty. The Hornet rolled the window down. "I thought you said you could keep up," the Hornet smirked.

"What do you want from me, Hornet?" Britt Reid's voice shouted from the cornered car. The statement was the only thing on the tape player Frank left playing on the front seat.

The Hornet sat calmly, making no motion to attack the car. After a few seconds that seemed to be hours to the impatient man, Reeves leaned down to the open window and snapped, "Well, do something! Kill him!"

The Hornet turned in an instant and grabbed Reeves' lapels. Reeves braced himself against the side of the car with his hands in fear that the Hornet would pull him through the small open space. "Listen, Reeves," the Hornet snapped, "I don't tell you how to do your business. Don't tell me how to do mine, or I'll put you in that car with Reid. You got that?"

"Sorry," Reeves gulped. The Hornet released Reeves with a shove.

"Activate the rockets," the Hornet instructed. Kato pushed another button on his bank of switches. Two compartments below the front bumper opened, revealing a number of rockets on each side.

"Activated," Kato announced.

The Hornet put his gloved finger on a button and pushed it. A rocket sailed out of the Black Beauty into the front of the white convertible. The car exploded into flames upon impact, the front half of the car shooting an orange ball of fire and black smoke into the air.

Reeves jumped at the sound of the explosion. He stood in stunned silence for a moment, mesmerized by the display of firepower the Hornet literally had at his fingertips. The anger and fear of moments earlier melted away as jubilation overtook him. "He's dead!" Reeves shouted, clapping his hands with glee as if watching his favorite team win a sporting event. "I can't believe it! Britt Reid's dead! I cannot _wait_ to see the expression on D.A. Scanlon's face in the morning!"

Because his face was blocked from Reeves' vision by the direction he was facing, Kato was able to smile in reaction to Reeves' enthusiasm. The slight motion of the Hornet's head conveyed the similar emotion he had to hold internally. "Okay, Mr. Reeves," the Hornet said, "let's get going. You have a payment to make."

"Oh, yes," Reeves said through his smile, "I'll definitely give you what's coming to you." Reeves bounded back to his car with a childlike glee. The two cars turned around and left, the black smoke and orange fire engulfing Britt's car in their rear view mirrors.

Reeves turned back toward town when he reached the main road. Kato kept the Black Beauty some distance behind Reeves' car. After Reeves turned Kato stopped the car. The Hornet jumped out of the back seat and opened the trunk, allowing Frank to climb out. "Thanks, Frank," the Hornet said.

"Don't mention me in your report to the insurance company," Frank said with a smile. He started toward a path that cut through trees to the parking lot of the Good Knight Diner to retrieve his car. He turned momentarily to watch the Black Beauty turn toward town, and to see the fiery glow in the near distance rise from Britt's car.

* * *

Reeves threw open the door to the study in his home. "Britt Reid is dead!" he joyously announced to the five men in the room. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. He's dead!" Reeves turned back toward the door and bowed in the Hornet's direction. "And we can thank the Green Hornet for that favor!"

As the Hornet and Kato entered the study they heard a tortured scream of "**_NO!_**" in reaction to Reeves' news. The masked men recognized the voice immediately. The Hornet's head jerked left upon hearing the shout. He saw Mike Axford tied to a straight back chair in front of the desk with the typewriter. A matching chair sat to Mike's left with Lenore Case bound to it. "You're gonna pay for this!" Mike snarled at the Hornet.

"Actually," the Hornet replied with a smile and a gesture toward Reeves,"_he's_ going to pay--me." He turned to Reeves and said, "I'd be happy to take care of them for you as well. No extra charge."

"They're no bother," Reeves replied as he walked toward his desk. "Now that Reid's out of the way they won't bother to show up in court tomorrow. I'll keep them here tonight to ensure that. The reporter's nothing more than a material witness, anyway. As for your payment…" Reeves reached into a drawer and produced a revolver. He pointed the gun at the Hornet. Two other men in the room also drew weapons and trained them on the two masked men. "There won't be one," Reeves announced. "You see, my boss doesn't believe in paying for anything he can have done for free."

The expression on the portion of the Hornet's face that was unobstructed by his mask did not change at the sight of the guns. "Then I hope you insist on getting your salary in advance."

In the instant that Reeves took to sarcastically smile at the Hornet's comment Kato sprang into action. He kept a number of hornet-shaped darts, seven inches in length, inside his pocket, and additional darts tucked behind the gloves on his hand. With a flick of his wrist a dart moved into his hand. He fired the dart at the right bicep of one of the men with a gun. The speed and force with which Kato threw the dart sent the sharp tip through the man's clothing and deep into his flesh. The pain instantly registered and the man dropped his gun.

Before the first dart found its mark Kato had a second one in his hand. He aimed for Reeves' hand. Reeves' reaction time was much slower than the speed Kato had developed as a result of years of practice and perfection of the martial arts of his Asian heritage. By the time Reeves raised his hand Kato's second dart was en route. The dart penetrated Reeves' right hand. In reaction Reeves' hand jerked to the right as his finger, involuntarily reacting to the dart sticking out of the back of his hand, pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the third man with a gun in the stomach.

The Hornet doubled his fist and punched Delmore, the closest man to him, while Delmore was still frozen in reaction to the sound of the gun firing and the accidental shooting of his cohort. Delmore doubled over when the Hornet's fist landed in the stomach. Unprepared to fight, Delmore was helpless against the Hornet's onslaught and quickly collapsed to the floor.

Kato's immediate interest was tending to Reeves, the only man left with a weapon in his hand. Kato jumped onto the desk and kicked Reeves in the face. The gun dropped to the ground as Reeves collapsed into the chair. The force of Kato's kick caused Reeves to continue falling in the opposite direction. The chair tipped over backward and Reeves' head banged against the floor.

Porter and one other man were left standing. Neither appeared to want any part of the two masked men, but had no option but to engage in a fight. Kato jumped off the desk with his right foot aimed toward Porter. The sole of his right shoe caught Porter in the chest and knocked him backwards. While Porter caught his breath Kato went after the last man. The man put his fists up more in self-defense than in acceptance of an unspoken invitation to fight. Kato's hands moved past the man's outstretched arms as if they were not there, hitting him in the stomach and chest three times. When the man doubled over Kato finished him off with a blow to the neck. Porter stood erect just long enough to be the target of another kick from Kato. Porter went backwards, falling over a sofa.

With Tillman's associates defeated, the Hornet turned his attention to the two captives in the room while Kato checked on the man who had been shot. Kato checked for a pulse then shook his head. "He's dead," he announced as he walked to the Hornet's side.

Mike struggled against the ropes that held him to the chair. He was older, shorter, and not physically capable of fighting against the Hornet. In spite of that, Reeves' announcement that the Hornet had assassinated Mike's employer and friend made the reporter desperate to at least die inflicting some pain on the masked man. "Get away from me!" Mike shouted as the Hornet neared him. "Since you're gonna kill me the way you killed Britt, I'm gonna give you a piece of my mind. You are…"

"Shut up, Axford," the Hornet interrupted. "Britt Reid is very much alive."

"Don't lie to me!" Mike snarled. "He just said he saw you kill him."

"He saw me blow up Reid's car," the Hornet said. "Reid was not in it. I have him in hiding. That's where you're going."

"You'll have to kill me," Mike said defiantly. "I'm not going anywhere with you, unless it's to watch you walk down Death Row, where you belong."

The Hornet reached into his coat and removed the Hornet Gun. One of Kato's seemingly endless inventions, the gun fired green sleeping gas instead of bullets. The gas had an instantaneous effect on anyone inhaling it. The Hornet stepped between the two chairs to block Casey from accidentally inhaling the green gas and shot a puff into Mike's face. Within three seconds he slumped unconscious in the chair.

After Mike fell into slumber the Hornet turned to Casey. "And what are _you_ doing here?" he asked quietly.

"I stayed late," Casey explained, "talking to Mike and Tim about the trial. Mike and I left the building together. When we did, three of those men grabbed us and brought us here."

The Hornet untied Mike's sleeping form while Kato held his shoulders to prevent him from falling out of the chair once free. After he was untied Kato picked him up and started toward the car. The Hornet undid Casey's binds and helped her to her feet. "Let's get out of here," he said. "I can't call Frank right now, so these guys will have to wait until later to be picked up."

Casey turned around to get her purse, sitting on the desk next to the typewriter. Her eyes caught the words typed on the sheet of typing paper still wrapped around the platen. "Look," she called to the Hornet, pointing at the paper.

The Hornet stepped behind the desk and read the two typed lines on the page. The first line was the jumbled mess of capitalized letters and figures. Beneath the message Tillman had given Reeves in the court was the translation Delmore had typed out: "KILL BRITT REID IN A WAY THAT DOES NOT IMPLICATE US." The Hornet slapped the shiny silver carriage return arm until the paper rolled out of the typewriter. He folded the paper and stored the note in an inside pocket. "Scanlon will want that, too," he commented. "If they can trace the typewriter to the one Tillman used to type this, he'll have an extra charge to worry about: conspiracy to commit murder." The Hornet gently patted Casey's shoulder. "Let's go."

Mike's form lay in the front passenger seat of the Black Beauty, slumped against the door. Kato was behind the wheel, ready to put the car into motion the instant the Hornet and Casey were inside. The two ran from the house to the car. The Hornet opened the door for Casey. She slid across the back seat to save the Hornet from having to walk around the car. With the gunshot having sounded, the likelihood that someone heard and phoned the police was high, necessitating a quick departure.

"Where to?" Kato asked as the car sped away from Reeves' house.

"Let's try home first," the Hornet replied.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The pictures beamed to the Black Beauty from the scanner confirmed the Hornet's suspicions. A number of policemen and reporters from the _Sentinel_ and DSTV maintained a vigil in front of Britt's townhouse. The crowd effectively eliminated the possibility of returning home.

"Okay," the Hornet said, the frustration obvious in his voice and posture, "recall the scanner."

Kato pressed a button to emit a radio frequency order to the scanner. The device followed the signal back to the Black Beauty and settled into its storage compartment. "Scanner recalled," Kato announced. "Now what?"

"Let's go to the _Sentinel_ warehouse in Warehouse Center. We can lock Mike away there."

"Right." Kato turned the car toward the section of town predominantly filled with more warehouses. He gave a quick glance at Mike, who slept soundly courtesy of the gas from the Hornet's gun, before taking a look in the rear view mirror. He saw the Hornet turn a small goose neck lamp on then remove the note he had taken from Reeves' house to study it.

The Hornet passed the note to Casey. "What do you think?"

The note Casey had casually spied in the typewriter now lay in her hands. She studied the two lines of typed letters, one a jumbled mess and the other a chilling order for Britt Reid's execution. "It seems," she said after extended examination, "that this line…" She pointed to the line of nonsense. "Is the same as this line," she continued, tapping the clear message with her finger.

"If they're the same," the Hornet chuckled, "then someone can't type."

"No, they _can_ type," Casey said. "If I type the 'kill Britt Reid' line, with my fingers one key off the home keys, it'll come out like this." She again gestured to the first sentence on the paper. "Anyone not familiar with home keys on a typewriter would think it's a kid trying to type."

The warehouse where the Green Hornet found refuge primarily housed spare printing presses and parts for the presses. The old printers were relics, giving the warehouse more of an air of museum than business necessities. The presses were still functional, and in the event of an emergency they could be called into use to make sure the _Daily Sentinel_ met its deadline. The warehouse offered ample space inside for the Black Beauty to park. Additionally, one wall was lined with smaller storage closets, each approximately ten feet square, with padlocked doors. The closets housed smaller supplies as opposed to the rows of large crates on palates on the main floor. Mike Axford's unconscious form was secured inside one of the closets.

From the back seat of the Black Beauty, Casey watched as Britt removed his mask. He then removed the gloves and hat and stored the accessories on the front passenger seat. When he noticed her stare he smiled. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Just cold." Casey gestured at the light white sweater she wore over her dress. "I didn't dress for a kidnapping when I went to work this morning."

Britt removed the topcoat and scarf. He folded the scarf and laid it on top of the other items of Green Hornet clothing. He closed the front door and quickly opened the rear door, sliding into the back seat next to Casey with the green overcoat still in his hand. "How was your dinner?" he said.

"That was the worst steakhouse I've ever been to," Casey joked. "I don't even feel like I've eaten."

"We'll try again tomorrow night." Britt covered Casey with the overcoat. "This hasn't been the best of nights for you."

"No, but my evening improved when you showed up at Reeves' house. They didn't tell us why they kidnapped us, but they did say something about being 'witness to a great event'. Poor Mike. I felt sorry for him." Casey smiled at Britt. "Sometimes it pays to have inside information."

As Britt developed the criminal persona he took into consideration how many people would need to know who was behind the green mask. The initial answer was no one except Kato. After discussion with his partner, Britt realized that he had to have one confidant within the law. The purpose for the Green Hornet's existence in the first place was to infiltrate the criminal underworld in order to turn them over to the judicial system. Since Frank Scanlon was an old friend of Britt's, predating their days as District Attorney and newspaper and TV station owner, respectively, he was the obvious choice. Casey was chosen for that privilege because Britt knew that he would eventually need someone at work to provide an alibi for his absence. Who better, he decided, than his personal secretary. Time proved that Britt's selections were wise ones.

"I'll talk to him when he wakes up," Britt said. "He'll calm down when he sees I'm alive."

"Good luck," Casey snickered. Her smile faded as she stared at Britt for a moment. "May I ask you a question, Mr. Reid?"

"Britt," he corrected playfully, putting his index finger within a millimeter of Casey's nose. "No formalities. We're on a dinner date, remember?"

"If this is your idea of a dinner date, then I know why you're still a bachelor," she teased. Britt laughed and slid his left arm around Casey's shoulder. Casey tried to compose herself. She had a flame for her boss that she kept as secret as his alter ego. "I've wanted to ask you this for a long time," she said, "but I never have because…well, you just don't know who might be listening, and I'd never do anything to compromise you. You know that."

"Absolutely," Britt confirmed.

"The Green Hornet," Casey said, looking directly at Britt's soft blue eyes.

"Personal friend of mine," Britt joked.

Casey smiled before completing her question. "Do you regret his existence?"

"Not at all," Britt answered. His instantaneous reply surprised Casey slightly, almost as if he anticipated the question. He leaned his head against Casey's, momentarily silent. The sudden change in his demeanor was evident in his body language. Casey sensed the difference.

"Casey," Britt said finally in a markedly somber tone, "there aren't words to explain how I felt the day I watched the police put handcuffs on my father and lead him away to prison. I never knew what it was like to _hate_ – literally be consumed with hatred – until that moment. I swore I'd get even with the crooks who framed my father." Britt stared at nothing in particular while his mind visualized the portrait of his father that adorned a wall in his office. "I never thought of revenge in the traditional sense. But I thought, what better way to get even than to ensure they get what they have coming to them, to put them where they belong?" Britt sat up and looked at Casey. "Sorry for the sermon. I don't like to talk about what happened to my father."

"I know," Casey said. "Mike once told me he felt he could talk to you about anything in the world except what happened to your father. He said it made you uncomfortable at best and furious at worst."

"He's right."

"I'm sorry."

Britt smiled and tucked away the pain of his past into the vault of his memories. "It's okay. You didn't know that's the main reason the Green Hornet exists, and that's why I don't regret the Green Hornet. No, this isn't always pleasant. Would I rather have spent this evening at a nice restaurant? Absolutely, but people like Tillman have to be stopped. And, if that means postponing a long-overdue dinner with you, so be it."

"What about Kato? How did you talk him into this?"

"There was no 'talking into' to be done," Britt replied. His eyes met Casey's. "What do you know about Kato?"

Casey pondered the question momentarily. "Well, I know he has an engineering and science degree, and you saved his life somehow."

"I think you'll understand Kato's interest in this after I tell you what happened." His eyes again stared off as his mind replayed an unpleasant scene from his life. "A gang of thugs in Singapore tried to beat him to death. I happened to pass by when they started to attack him and intervened."

"Why was he attacked?"

"Because he was Korean," Britt replied.

Casey sat up and stared at her boss. "That's it?"

"That's it," Britt replied. "Bigotry isn't unique to our country. So you see, Kato has good reason to want to criminals removed from the streets, too."

"The poor man," Casey said softly, the pain she felt for her friend apparent in her voice.

"Do me a favor," Britt said. "Don't tell him I told you that. If you think I'm bad about talking about my father…"

Casey nodded and returned to her reclining position against Britt's arm. "Your secret's safe with me."

"There's a shock," Britt chuckled, easing the awkwardness that discussion of the painful past had brought with it, "you, keeping a secret of mine."

A few moments of silence passed. Casey felt the tension in Britt's body subside as he dimmed the mental movies of the past like a light. He again rested his head against Casey's, literally leaning on her for support. Casey frequently found herself in a mental debate whether she truly loved Britt, was smitten with a crush, or simply had a case of hero worship. At the moment, that argument seemed most trivial. Casey's only concern centered on the pain the revelations of the past inflicted on a friend.

Britt's voice broke the silence. "It's time for me to ask you a question." Britt glanced out the door window at the stacks of supplies stored in the warehouse. "Are you sorry I told you?"

"No," Casey replied with the same quick, emphatic tone that Britt had employed when answering her initial question. "Why should I be?"

Britt chuckled. "Well, if you _didn't_ know, you'd probably be home sleeping now."

"Or dead from shock when those men said the Green Hornet had killed you. No, Mister…" She stopped instantly as Britt's finger jumped into the air as if it had heard the formality. "Britt," she corrected.

"'Mister Britt.' I like that."

"I'm not sorry at all. Actually, I'm very flattered and honored that you chose to tell me. You didn't have to, you know." Casey sighed. "Although," she added, "I will admit that sometimes it's hard to listen to Mike's tirades. I have to bite my tongue. You don't deserve the things he says about you."

"He's not attacking _me_, Casey. He's attacking someone he perceives as a heinous criminal. And, to tell you the truth, Mike's attitude has helped make the Green Hornet successful. The press is powerful, and the worse he portrays the Green Hornet the less the Green Hornet has to prove."

Casey rested in the warmth of the overcoat, satisfied with the answers though unsettled by the history behind them. She realized how comparatively little she knew about Britt. The dinner date would afford more opportunities for discussion about Britt's life. Casey closed her eyes and instructed herself to savor this moment. The steady, predictable movement of Britt's body as he breathed lulled Casey to sleep within minutes.

* * *

Kato stood by the Black Beauty's right rear door, gazing at the two sleeping forms with the green overcoat covering their bodies in the back seat. Kato felt elation to see Britt stealing a few winks. The double duty of publisher and crime fighter-perceived-as-criminal forced Britt on numerous occasions to go for days without sufficient sleep, if any. Mike's request to speak to Britt hardly seemed worth disturbing the rest. In addition, waking Britt meant automatically waking Casey, who was using Britt's left shoulder for a pillow.

Britt's head lay against the window of the right rear door. A gentle tap on the window next to his ear woke him from his dreamless sleep. He opened his eyes quickly and saw his masked partner at the window, smiling apologetically. Britt turned his head slightly to see Casey sleeping soundly. He carefully rolled the window down. "Guess what," Kato whispered.

"Mike's awake," Britt surmised, "and he wants to see me." Kato nodded.

Britt sighed, seeing he could not move without waking Casey. He gently squeezed her shoulder with his hand. "Huh?" she said in reaction to the sensation.

"Sorry, Casey," Britt apologized, "but Mr. Pulitzer Prize wants to see me." Britt rolled the window up before he left the car. Casey, more asleep than awake, took Britt's place against the door.

Outside of the storage closet where Mike was held Britt removed the lock from the latch and handed it to Kato. Kato opened the door and gently pushed against Britt's back. In response Britt stumbled into the room as if he had been shoved. "Ten minutes, Reid," Kato said roughly before he slammed the door behind Britt.

Mike's face glowed at the sight of Britt standing in the room. "Boss!" Mike jumped off the crate he had slept and sat on and ran to Britt, embracing him unashamedly. "You really _are_ alive! Thank God!" Mike stepped back from Britt and examined his boss as if inspecting an old friend at a reunion where decades instead of hours had passed since they had seen each other.

"I'm fine, Mike," Britt assured the reporter.

Mike's jubilation was short-lived. "What happened?" he said in a suddenly angry tone. "What did the Green Hornet do to you?"

"What did he do?" Britt repeated incredulously. "He saved me life, Mike, that's what he did."

Mike spun away from Britt in disgust. "I don't believe that."

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

Mike stomped a few paces then turned back. "He was hired to kill you! Why would he save your life?"

Britt shook his head. "You wouldn't give the Green Hornet credit if he cured the common cold, would you?"

"You're darn right I wouldn't!"

"He contacted me and told me what Reeves wanted to do. We arranged to stage a show for Reeves' benefit."

"So why are we here?" Mike looked around. "Where are we?"

"In a _Sentinel_ warehouse," Britt replied, "at my offer. The Green Hornet wants me out of sight until it's time to testify in the morning."

"And why would he want to do that?" Mike said, pronouncing each word with a staccato snarl. "He's suddenly developed a case of good-guy-itis?"

Britt rolled his eyes. "Give me one reason he warned me, Mike. Just one. By all accounts, he should have _welcomed_ the opportunity to kill me – _and_ you – after all the editorials the _Sentinel_ has published about him. But, he _didn't_. I know this pains you, but you're just going to have to live with the fact that the Green Hornet did something good this time."

Mike put his hands on his hips and stared at Britt. "If your dad knew you were cooperating with someone like the Green Hornet he'd roll over in his grave," he chided.

"I'm not joining forces with the Green Hornet, Mike. We've called a temporary truce. There's an old Arabian proverb, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' We both have a bigger objective, and that's seeing Cornhusker Tillman convicted and put away." Britt stood silently to allow Mike to momentarily fume. "Listen, Mike," he finally said in a softer tone, "I _promise_ you there'll be no editorial in tomorrow's _Sentinel_ praising the Green Hornet for having a big heart."

The words pained Mike. To the veteran reporter, a criminal was a criminal, and no good deed could undo the crimes. His mouth curled into a frown as he nodded in resignation. "Okay," he said.

Britt nodded and smiled. "Good man, Mike. Now, get some rest. We need to be fresh for court tomorrow."

Britt walked toward the door. As he raised his hand to knock to be let out, Mike said, "One thing, Britt. How'd you get here?"

Britt turned to face his employee. "In the trunk of the Green Hornet's car," he replied. "We arrived ahead of Reeves where he had me 'cornered'. I got out of my car and hid in his trunk before Reeves arrived."

"Why did you do that?" Mike protested. "You should've run!"

"How was I supposed to get back into town, Mike? Anyway, I gave my word, and I keep my word." Mike's mouth opened as if to say something. Britt intercepted Mike's thought with a point of his finger in Mike's direction. "Yes, even to the Green Hornet." Britt turned and rapped on the door.

"Let me talk to the Green Hornet," Mike called before the door closed behind Britt.

Just clear of the door, Britt rolled his eyes while Kato chuckled. "Visiting hours are over, Axford," Kato called through the door in a stern tone.

Britt broke into a smile, shaking his head. "Remind me again why I keep him on the payroll," Britt whispered as the two men walked toward the Black Beauty.

"A sense of duty to your father who hired him," Kato offered.

"Not good enough," Britt chuckled. The two men stopped in front of Casey, who had left the Black Beauty's back seat. "Sorry I woke you," Britt said with a smile.

"That's okay," she said. "What time is it?"

"Nearly 2 a.m.," Britt said.

"I guess you'll need the back seat, anyway, to call Mr. Scanlon," Casey yawned. "How's Mike enjoying his evening?"

"He's fine," Britt said. "I'm the one losing sleep. He wants to see the Green Hornet now."

Casey stretched her arms above her head then extended the overcoat in her hand to Britt. "Are you going to go in there armed with the Hornet Sting in case Mike tries to beat you up?" she asked.

Britt laughed as he took the coat from Casey. "I'll take my chances."

"You could just tell him," Casey said with a wink.

Britt laughed. "Can you hear him if he found out? I just heard _that_ lecture." Britt's eyes widened as he impersonated Mike's voice and mannerisms. "Britt Reid," he mocked the reporter, "_YOU'RE_ the Green Hornet? Your daddy is rolling over in his grave!"

Casey emitted a laugh that was followed instantaneously by a groan. She grabbed her right side as pain flooded through her body. Britt and Kato each took a side to prevent her from falling to the concrete floor of the warehouse. "What's wrong, Miss Case?" Kato, to Casey's right, asked.

"I don't know," she groaned. The pain intensified, something Casey considered impossible given the initial wave of pain. She felt her legs losing their ability to support her weight. A moment later Britt swept her into his arms. He left Kato standing by the Black Beauty and carried Casey to the nearest stack of pallets. He laid her on the makeshift bed and quickly covered his secretary with the green overcoat. Casey's eyes were closed and her pretty, smooth face was contorted in involuntary reaction to the sudden, mysterious attack on her senses by her body.

"Where are you hurting?" Britt asked. Casey tossed the coat aside and gestured to her abdomen, just to the right of her navel. "Do you still have your appendix?" Casey nodded. Her chest began moving like an ocean wave. Britt jumped onto the pallet and grabbed Casey. With one arm around her waist and another around her shoulder he rolled her onto her stomach. Britt turned his eyes away to allow Casey relative privacy while regurgitating. His right hand rested between Casey's shoulders. When he felt her body no longer heaving he returned his gaze to her. "Are you still hurting?"

Casey nodded. She managed to turn her head to make eye contact with Britt. "Is now a bad time to ask for a raise?" she joked in a pain-streaked voice.

"We'll talk about it later," Britt replied. "We have to get you to a hospital. _Now_."

"Who's going to take me?" Casey protested weakly. "Britt Reid's in hiding. I can see the Green Hornet walking me into a hospital. On top of that, who's going to baby sit Mike?"

The mention of the name of the reporter sent an idea charging through Britt's mind. "Mike! _That's_ how we'll do it! We'll have Mike take you in!" Britt jumped off the pallets and ran to the Black Beauty. "We have to get Casey to the hospital," Britt told Kato. "If that's her appendix and it ruptures, she could die. Even if it's not, she can become dehydrated very quickly."

The two men hurriedly walked toward the storage closet that housed Mike. "Isn't that dangerous?" Kato asked. "He wouldn't cooperate with the Green Hornet if his life depended on it."

"But he will if it's _Casey's_ life," Britt said, "and, if I talk to him." Britt pulled the lock out of the catch and handed it to Kato. "We don't have any option," he whispered before he pulled the door open.

Britt peered inside. Mike lay on a crate, just beginning the drift into sleep. He had removed his jacket and laid it lengthwise across his body for a blanket. Britt nodded to Kato and walked inside. "Mike," Britt called, shaking the reporter.

Mike jumped out of his fetal position with a swinging fist. "I'll get you, Green Hornet!" he shouted, more asleep than awake.

Britt easily blocked Mike's semiconscious swing. "Take it easy, Mike!" he said. "Do I look like the Green Hornet to you?"

As his senses gelled Mike looked through the dimly lit room at his employer. "Sorry, Boss," he said. "I didn't know it was you. I _promise_ I'll never insult you that way again!"

"I'll be insulted later," Britt said. "Right now, we have problems. Casey's taken ill."

"What? What did he do to her?"

"She may have appendicitis, Mike. 'He' didn't do _anything_ to her. Now, listen to me. In a couple of minutes the Green Hornet's going to come in here and get you. He's agreed to take Casey to the hospital because she needs immediate medical attention. He wants me to stay out of sight, and he can't take her into the hospital in case the police are there. That leaves you to take her to the emergency room." The crusty reported said nothing but nodded at Britt's instructions. "Mike," Britt continued, "I'm as serious about this as I have ever been about anything. Don't get into any arguments with the Green Hornet. Just get Casey to a doctor's care and come back."

"I promise," Mike said halfheartedly.

"I gave him my word, Mike," Britt cautioned, "and I'll be kept locked up here. You don't have to say, 'Yes, Mr. Hornet' or anything. Just get Casey some help. Alright?"

Mike dragged himself to his feet. "I'll do anything for Casey, Britt. You know that." He pulled his coat off the crate and slid the crumpled jacket on.

Britt smiled and patted Mike's left arm. "I know you won't let her – or me – down." Britt left the reporter and went to the door. He tapped on the door to signal he was finished. Kato opened the door from the other side and let him out.

Once out of the storage closet Britt ran to the stacks of pallets where Casey lay doubled in a fetal position. Kato ran ahead of him to retrieve the clothing Britt needed to become the Green Hornet. Britt stopped near Casey and removed his jacket. He swapped the jacket with Kato for the green fedora, mask, gloves, and scarf. "Casey," Britt said softly as he began the transformation, "are you any worse?"

Casey struggled to sit up. "Can this _get_ worse?" she moaned. She extended the overcoat toward Britt.

"Have you been sick any more?" Casey shook her head while Britt slid his arms into the overcoat. "Good." The transformation complete, he went to Casey and lifted her into his arms. With the contact he could feel the involuntary reactions her body had to the pain pounding her senses. He stopped at the back of the Black Beauty. Kato went ahead of him to open the left rear door. "Listen, Casey," he said softly, "Mike's agreed to take you in the hospital." He kissed her forehead after easing her in to the back seat. "I'll be by to check on you as soon as I can. Don't worry about anything, okay?" Casey released his neck and nodded.

The Hornet gestured toward the storage closets. "Get ready to roll, Kato," he instructed his partner. "I'll take care of Mike." Kato nodded and maintained his position near the open rear door, ready to aid Casey should she require assistance.

Mike momentarily pondered the possibility of overpowering the Hornet by jumping on him from a vantage point on a crate or throwing an object at him. He rejected the notion more out of fear of what Britt would say, especially if Casey died, than concern of what the Hornet might do to him. When the Hornet opened the door Mike stood just inside the storage closet, waiting to cooperate. "Did Reid explain the situation?" the Hornet asked. Mike said nothing, only offering a nod of his head. "Good. Let's go." The Hornet stepped away from the door and allowed Mike to walk outside.

For the first time Mike stepped outside of the storage area that had served as his prison. The reporter looked at the uniformed stacks of supplies with the stenciled name of the newspaper on many of the boxes with a disinterested glance, choosing to eye them rather than the loathsome criminal at his side. The Hornet walked urgently, causing Mike to speed up his pace as well. When the two reached the Black Beauty, the Hornet opened the front passenger door and gestured with a jerk of his head for Mike to get in. As Mike passed he shot a scowl in the Hornet's direction. Kato got behind the wheel when the reporter closed the door.

Once inside the car, Mike turned to look at Casey in the back seat. She was tilted to the right in reaction to her agony. "Are you okay, Casey?" Mike asked.

"Do I look like I'm okay?" Casey snapped.

"I mean, did the Green Hornet hurt you?"

"I don't think he could've given me appendicitis," Casey replied, pausing every other word to catch the breath that the malady knocked out of her.

The Hornet ran to the entrance door to the warehouse after he escorted Mike to the Black Beauty. He slid the cargo entrance door open just wide enough to accommodate his body. He stepped outside into the cool night, his eyes immediately searching for security guards or the flashing lights of a police squad car. He took a quick glance at his wristwatch. The time told him the warehouse complex security would not be on scheduled rounds for nearly another hour. In that amount of time they should make the emergency journey to St. Luke's Hospital and return to hiding.

The Hornet shoved the door open. Kato saw the door open through the rear view mirror and backed the car out. Once the car cleared the warehouse door the Hornet closed and locked the door. He climbed into the back seat quickly. "Drive carefully," he instructed as he slid across the seat to Casey's side. "The lady is sick enough as it is."

The hospital named for the Biblical physician sat a scant six miles from the warehouse. To the three men in the car concerned about Casey's health the journey seemed to drag as if the distance was ten times the mileage. The incessant moaning from Casey and the static from the police scanner were the only sounds in the tension-filled automobile. Finally the curiosity that made Mike a reporter overpowered him. He refused to turn his head, keeping his eyes straight ahead on the road. "I have one question for you," he said with the snarl that accompanied every conversation with or about the Green Hornet.

"What, Axford?" the Hornet said, exhaling heavily on the first word.

"Why?"

"'Why' what? Why did I stage Reid's assassination?" Mike nodded. "I want Tillman off the street and behind bars for the rest of his life, that's why. That won't happen unless Reid testifies."

"Why do you care?"

"Whatever you think about me, Axford, I don't like seeing judges gunned down."

"It's bad for business?" Mike said sarcastically over his shoulder.

"If you wish to put it that way."

As the Black Beauty neared the hospital the Hornet said, "Okay, Axford, here's the plan."

Mike turned around automatically to look at the person addressing him. He burned with rage as he saw the Hornet seated next to Casey, his arm around her shoulder and her head slumped against his chest. In his mind the reporter shouted at the criminal to remove his disgusting arm from Casey's shoulder, lest any of his evil somehow contaminate her already stricken body. The sudden mental picture of his employer's previous warning for Mike to forego hostilities for Casey's sake kept Mike's tirade from being uttered. "I'm listening," Mike mumbled.

"Most hospitals have wheelchairs at the emergency entrance," the Hornet said. "Find one and bring it to the car. We'll put Miss Case in the chair. Take her inside, find the first doctor or nurse you can and turn her over to them, then get back out here. I want you on your way out the door the instant the staff doctor looks at her. Do you understand?"

"In and out," he nodded, turning back to watch the road. The very sight of the man in the back seat caused Mike's temper to rise to near uncontrollable levels. A louder moan from Casey caused Mike's head to jerk around toward the back seat again. The sight of the Hornet comforting Casey should have calmed Mike. Instead, he lost control of his mouth. "Do you know how much I hate you?" he blurted out.

The Hornet nodded with a smile. "I don't miss a single article of yours."

Mike turned his head to look out the door window. His regret was not for what he said, but that the Hornet's lighthearted reply indicated Mike had inflicted no verbal damage. _You just wait_, the reporter thought to himself. _One day you'll be in Cornhusker Tillman's position, and I'll be singing like the church choir about you on that witness stand_.

A quick right after turning on to the hospital property put the Black Beauty on the drive to the emergency entrance. The road snaked up an incline for a quarter of a mile before another right turn led to the hospital building. The third turn was a left to a parking area for ambulances, fire trucks, police cars, or family members bringing someone to the emergency room. The hospital's emergency entrance had a protective cover over the drive so patients and ambulance and hospital staff would be sheltered from inclement weather. No trees or walls provided seclusion for the easily recognized automobile.

The parking lot was devoid of any official vehicles when Kato brought the Black Beauty to a stop near the emergency entrance. Three wheelchairs sat outside the doors. "Okay, Axford," the Hornet said, gesturing with his head in the direction of the wheelchairs, "get a wheelchair and bring it here."

Mike hesitated for a moment before he threw open the door. When his body cleared the open space he released his pent-up frustration on the car door. He ran to get a wheelchair and brought it to the door next to where Casey sat. Kato left his position behind the wheel to open the door. Casey managed to maneuver into the chair with minimal assistance from the men around her. The Hornet handed her purse out of the car to her. Casey smiled weakly as the pain continued to pound through her body. Mike saw the Hornet smile at Casey and pulled the chair backward quickly. "C'mon, Casey," he fumed.

"Remember, Axford," the Hornet called, "give her to the first doctor or nurse you see, then come back." Mike had his back turned to his adversary. He waved his hand over his shoulder without bothering to turn back to acknowledge the instruction. Kato got back into the car, ready to take off in an instant should any security or police arrive.

When the front wheels of the chair hit the electronic mat the glass doors, each with the word _emergency_ painted in white, swung inward. Mike patted Casey's shoulder. "Don't worry," he assured his co-worker, "you're safe now. You don't have to worry about the Green Hornet any more."

_I never do_, Casey thought. For a brief moment the pain gave leave of her senses, allowing her to contemplate the danger Britt faced to bring her to the hospital. If the police showed up Britt might lose his freedom, while Cornhusker might gain his. The pain banged against her side as if chiding her for focusing her attention on something other than her own agony. Casey jerked to the right again. She held her hand up to signal Mike to stop.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I think I'm going to be sick again."

Mike left Casey and traveled the last few yards to the desk where patients checked in for evaluation. Casey saw Mike pointing in her direction. The nurse behind the desk joined Mike as both ran to her side. "What's the problem?" the thin young blonde asked.

"I'm sick," Casey moaned, "and there's pain…" She attempted to sit erect long enough for the nurse to see the portion of her abdomen where her hands clutched, but the pain threw her over again.

The nurse put her hand on Casey's forehead. "Do you have your appendix?" she asked. Casey nodded. The nurse made no attempt to wrest Casey's hand from her abdomen. Instead, she pressed her thumb against Casey's wrist to feel the pulse. "I'll notify a doctor immediately," the nurse told Mike. "Please push her to the desk."

Mike obediently pushed Casey to the desk. The nurse went behind the desk and paged a doctor. Her voice echoed through the corridors. Casey glanced at Mike and mumbled, "Thanks, Mike."

"The pleasure is mine," Mike replied, "and I'm going to increase my pleasure." He turned to the nurse. "May I use your phone?" The nurse picked the phone up and sat it in front of Mike. The reporter picked up the receiver and dialed "0."

Casey knew exactly what Mike planned. Despite the torture gushing through her body Casey's thoughts went immediately to the two men waiting outside of the hospital. She moved her left hand to her purse and reached inside. One of the benefits of knowing the Green Hornet's secret was the ability to contact him in an emergency. Kato created a number of transmitters and disguised them in various ways. One such transmitter was in Casey's purse in the guise of a make-up compact.

"Operator? Get me the police. Hurry! This is an emergency!"

Casey's fingers found the compact. She pushed the top open, which activated the device.

In the Black Beauty, a buzzer sounded on the bank of devices in the back seat. The Hornet looked at the blinking light then at Kato. He turned the switch on to hear the audio broadcast from inside of Casey's purse.

"Mike," the Hornet heard Casey say, "you promised Mr. Reid!"

"Casey," Mike said, the phone mouthpiece over his head and the earpiece against his ear, "Britt may have 'given his word,' but I don't make deals with criminals. _Especially_ not that one!" Hearing a voice on the other end, Mike dropped the phone to his mouth. "Police? Is Sergeant Philips there? This is Mike Axford from the _Sentinel_. I need to talk to him. It's an emergency."

Casey sighed and made a feeble attempt to grab Mike's hand. "Please, Mike."

"Casey," Mike said, "the pain has you delirious. You sound as if you don't want the Green Hornet captured!" He returned his attention to the policeman on the phone. "Sergeant Philips? Mike Axford. Send some squad cars to St. Luke's Hospital. The Green Hornet is outside!" After a pause, Mike chided the policeman on the phone, "No, I am _not_ drunk!"

A doctor pushed Casey's wheelchair away from the desk. Casey looked over her shoulder at Mike, uncertain whether the pain she experienced from the malady that had possessed her body or Mike's betrayal hurt more.

Before Casey began her trip toward emergency surgery the Black Beauty was off the hospital property. The Hornet turned the receiver off with a deep sigh. "I should've known," he mused.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Porter and Delmore lounged in Porter's living room. Sleep prospects were buried in the shallow grave with their dead cohort. The enticement of easy money glamorized the criminal life, which had lured the two men into its snare. Loot no longer appeared "easy". An associate was dead, and the plan to double-cross the Green Hornet had failed. The Hornet was alive, on the loose, and undoubtedly plotting revenge against Reeves at best, or Tillman and all known associates at worst.

A single lamp provided scant illumination to the living room. In comparison to the furnishings at Reeves' house, Porter's home reiterated the fact that he was merely a foot soldier in Tillman's criminal army. Porter's pride still stung from Reeves' tantrum over the desk earlier in the evening. Reeves seemed more concerned about the blood stains on the carpet than the accidental death of a coworker when he ordered Porter and Delmore to dispose of the corpse. Porter failed to comprehend how Reeves could show more compassion toward a piece of furniture than the employee Reeves had accidentally shot. New desks were much easier to come by than new muscle. Reeves' desk was a status symbol to remind everyone who worked in the organization who had access to Tillman and who did not.

"What are you mumbling about?" Delmore asked. He gestured toward the police radio that sat on the end table next to the sofa he lay on. "You're drowning out the cop calls."

Porter realized he was vocalizing his thoughts of frustration. "Sorry," he said, "just thinking out loud."

"Go ahead and think out loud," Delmore said. He rearranged his body on the sofa. "It's probably no different than what I'm thinkin'."

"I'm not too happy about Reeves double-crossing the Green Hornet," Porter admitted.

"At least Reeves did us a favor by having us dump Lloyd's body," Delmore said.

"Yeah," Porter said, turning to a semi-reclining position in the upholstered chair he occupied by stretching his legs over one of the arms. "This ain't the Ritz," he admitted, gesturing around the living room, "but I'd rather be _anywhere_ than within ten miles of Reeves when the Green Hornet comes to collect his fee. You know his reputation."

"You're right," Delmore said, "and he's not gonna let Tillman off, either." The man managed a chuckle that sounded more like a cough. "Wouldn't it be funny if this worked and he did beat that rap? He walks out of police custody onto the streets, where the Green Hornet's waiting for him. If Tillman's smart, he'll stay where he is."

The name "Green Hornet" emanating from the police radio silenced the two men and brought their bodies to erect sitting positions simultaneously. "Repeating," the man's voice on the radio said, "all cars in the vicinity of St. Luke's Hospital, be on the lookout for the Green Hornet. Mike Axford reported that the Green Hornet was at the emergency room entrance ten minutes ago. All cars, check the vicinity for the Green Hornet."

The two men eyed each other in response to the desk sergeant's call over the radio. "What do you suppose that's all about?" Porter said.

Delmore pulled himself to his feet. "I don't know," he said, fishing his car keys out of his pocket, "but let's get over there and see Axford before the cops do. If he blabs, Tillman's gonna have company in his cell – us."

* * *

Mike paced back and forth near the nurses' station as if walking between his polarized thoughts. Somewhere behind the closed double doors that protected the emergency room from the rest of the hospital Casey lay in preparation for surgery. At the opposite end of the corridor was the entrance to the hospital. Mike knew the Green Hornet was gone. He had mustered the courage to peek outside after completing the call to the police, only to discover the Black Beauty had vanished into the city night. Worse, the delay in the police's arrival meant the Hornet had ample time to return to the warehouse and spirit Britt away. That meant a lengthy, stern admonishment awaited Mike once he and his boss reunited in court. Britt's tongue lashings could inflict as much pain as the school principal's paddle, a fact Mike knew all too well.

_But how could the Hornet have known?_ Mike asked himself. _Maybe it was just a coincidence that he left right after I called the cops. Maybe a cop happened by and saw him._ Mike's face brightened on that hope. _After all_, Mike heard his voice say in his mind, _the Green Hornet can't hear through walls. He couldn't possibly know that I called the cops._

"Mr. Axford?" an orderly dressed in green operating room scrubs called to Mike. The color of the uniform startled Mike. He had seen enough green courtesy of his former captor to make him jumpy.

Mike directed his steps to the man who called his name. "Yes?"

"You brought Miss Case in?" Mike nodded. "I wanted to let you know that all the test results point to acute appendicitis, and we're prepping her for surgery."

"She'll be alright?" Mike asked anxiously.

The orderly nodded. "She's lucky. You got her here just in time. We'll let you know as soon as she's in recovery."

Mike sighed as if expelling his negative thoughts with his breath. The orderly returned to the emergency room and Mike's attention turned to his growling stomach. His eyes scanned the walls for a sign pointing to a snack bar. A sign indicating the way to vending machines caused a frown from the reporter. He started in the direction the arrow pointed, resigned to the fact that he would have to suffer with coffee from a machine until the hospital snack bar opened.

Outside the hospital, Delmore stopped the car near the emergency entrance. "If I see the Green Hornet," he told Porter, "I'm takin' off and you're on your own."

Porter lightly slapped Delmore's shoulder. "Do you see his car here?" he asked. "The cops may have already been here. Don't do anything suspicious. For all anyone knows, you're bringing your sick mother to the emergency room."

"Okay, but hurry!"

Porter jumped out of the car and hurried inside the hospital via the same entrance Mike had used to bring Casey in. Porter made his way to the nurse's station, his head in constant motion as he searched for any sign of police or a green hat. The waiting room was vacant.

"May I help you?" the nurse asked. Her voice slightly startled the nervous man.

"Uh, yes," Porter said. "We got a call from Mike Axford about the Green Hornet, and I need to speak to him."

"I think he went to get some coffee," the nurse said.

"When he comes back, would you send him outside so I can talk to him?"

"Yes, sir," the nurse said.

"Thanks," Porter called as he turned for the exit. He walked as quickly as he could without breaking into a run. Once clear of the hospital doors he forsook the slower gait to reach the safety of the car as rapidly as possible. "They'll send him out," Porter said as he shut the door behind him.

* * *

"I'd give anything for that cup of coffee Frank threw away last night," the Hornet mused from the back seat of the Black Beauty.

Kato looked in the rear view mirror. "Do you want to find an all-night diner?"

"I'd love to," the Hornet admitted with a slight chuckle, "but how would I get a cup of coffee?"

"You have shoes and a shirt," Kato smiled. "Would they refuse you service?"

"Okay," the Hornet said, "but make sure it's out of the way. Turn the police scanner on so we can keep track of what's off limits."

Kato turned the police radio on. The airwaves were unusually busy for the middle of the night. Most of the conversation centered on the investigation at the warehouse and at St. Luke's. A couple of policemen reported their position at Knight Park, still investigating Britt's firebombed convertible. The Black Beauty sped north and west of the major hotspots.

Tim Wilson sat at the counter of Jim's Diner, his face as long as the black counter on which his elbows rested. The young man's eyes were red, more the result of tears than the lack of sleep. The waitress behind the counter saw the sad countenance of the diner's sole customer. "What's wrong, honey?" the fortyish woman asked as she refilled Tim's coffee cup.

Tim shook his head. "Of all the things they teach you in journalism class," he said, his voice cracking beneath the weight of emotion, "they never tell you about things like how to handle your own boss's murder."

"What?" the waitress said in disbelief.

Tim managed to lift his head. "Sorry, ma'am," he said, his voice barely audible. "It hasn't been a good night."

"Nobody move!" a man's voice called from the entrance. The fry cook, an older, scrawny man dressed in white, turned upon hearing the command. Tim instinctively spun on his stool to face the man speaking. A young man with a revolver stood just inside the diner's entrance. He had dark hair and need of a shave. "Nobody try anything heroic," he ordered. Tim, the waitress, and the cook raised their hands to a surrender position without being instructed.

Outside of the diner, the Black Beauty neared. "No police have reported to be near here," Kato said.

As the car passed the diner to turn into the parking lot out of view of the windows in front the Hornet noticed the unusual position of the occupants inside. "Hurry, Kato," he said. "It looks like a robbery." Kato gunned the car into the parking lot, killing the green headlights so they would not reflect on anything and announce their arrival. The Hornet had his door open before the car stopped. Kato was three steps behind him.

As they rounded the corner they spied the man, his back to the windows and door, collecting Tim's wallet. The Hornet leaned close to Kato's ear. "That's Tim Wilson," he said. "Let's be extremely careful."

"No problem," Kato said. He stepped in front of the Hornet and moved toward the entrance.

The waitress, scared because of the gun pointed in her direction, nervously fiddled with the cash register. Her trembling fingers kept sliding off the "no sale" key, preventing the cash register drawer from opening. With each failed attempt she grew more terrified that the robber's patience would wear thin and he would resort to using the weapon in his right hand.

Kato charged into the diner with a loud shout to announce his presence. His path went directly to the robber. In the moment it took the robber to react to the noise Kato was upon him. The first blow Kato applied was a powerful kick to the man's hand, which knocked the gun to the floor. As the man reacted to the pain in his hand, Kato inflicted more blows. Kato's fourth chop was across the robber's neck, sending him to the diner floor where he remained motionless.

The Hornet lingered at the door, relying on his partner's speed and ability to subdue the lone robber. Once the man was defeated the Hornet walked through the diner. He retrieved the gun from the floor while Kato removed Tim's wallet from the floor beneath the robber's fallen form. The two men met at the counter by the cash register. Kato handed the wallet to the Hornet, who opened it and read the name on the driver's license. He looked at each of the three diner occupants staring at him. The Hornet's presence paralyzed the two employees in a way the robber's gun could not. "Tim Wilson?" he called.

The timid disposition Tim displayed in Britt's office was noticeably absent in the diner. "That's me," he said, starting off the counter stool.

The fry cook reached across the counter and grabbed Tim's arm, landing the reporter back on the seat. "Don't you know who that is, kid?" he said with a feigned whispered tone as his gaze shifted between the reporter and the masked men.

Tim shook his arm free from the cook's grasp. "He's the Green Hornet," Tim identified in a normal tone of voice as he stood again. Tim walked past three empty stools to the Hornet. "I'm Tim Wilson, sir," he acknowledged, "from the _Daily Sentinel_."

"Ah, the _Sentinel_," the Hornet smirked. He extended Tim's wallet. Tim, initially surprised that the Hornet did not keep the money in the billfold, accepted the wallet from the Hornet's gloved hand. "I must be good for your circulation, as many editorials as Reid publishes about me." The Hornet looked at the terrified waitress. "Large coffee, please, to go."

"You don't have to worry about Mr. Reid's editorials any more," Tim said softly, his hazel eyes welling tears. "It appears he was killed tonight."

The waitress's trembling hand sat a Styrofoam cup on the counter in front of the Hornet. He took a large gulp of coffee, savoring the aroma and taste. He replaced the cup on the counter, half the liquid gone. "Refill, please." The waitress obliged while the Hornet removed the bullets from the revolver. He laid the gun on the counter and put the ammunition in an ashtray. He then placed two quarters on the counter in front of the coffee.

"Coffee's only a dime," the waitress said before she thought as the Hornet turned from the counter with his purchase.

"You don't accept tips?" the Hornet asked.

The waitress looked at Kato. "Anything for you?"

Kato shook his head as the man on the floor stirred slightly. Kato provided a kick to his face that stilled him again.

"One thing," the Hornet said with a gesture of his head toward the robber on the floor. "Let us have a couple of minutes' head start before you call the cops."

"Yes, sir," the waitress promised.

The Hornet reached the door, but stopped with his hand on the push bar. "Wilson," he called over his shoulder. Tim walked toward the Hornet, Kato tailing him. Sandwiched between the two masked men, Tim had no option but to walk outside with them. Once outside the Hornet turned to face the young reporter, while Kato left for the car.

"I don't understand," Tim said. "Why'd you break up that robbery?"

"I didn't call you out here for an interview, Wilson," the Hornet said. "But, if you must know, I don't like nickel-and-dime operators. It shows no imagination. If he can't do any better than to knock over a diner, he _deserves_ to be caught. Now, as to why I called you out here, you're not to tell anyone this just yet. Britt Reid is alive."

Tim's entire body reacted visibly to the statement. "He is? How do you know that?"

"I'll leave it for Reid to fill in the details," the Hornet replied. "All you need to know is that he's alive and is being protected from another assassination attempt."

The reporter's instinct in Tim took control. "Who's protecting him?"

"I am."

"You?"

The Black Beauty stopped next to the two men. "Talk to Reid about it in the morning," the Hornet said as he opened the door. "Make sure you keep it quiet until you hear from him." The car sped away as the Hornet closed the door.

Tim returned to his seat at the diner counter in a relieved frame of mind. The reporter eyed the unconscious robber on the floor, the two quarters and unloaded gun on the counter, and the waitress on the phone to the police. He found himself wondering where the monster that Mike Axford had described as the Green Hornet was.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Britt? What's wrong?"

"How do you want the list, Frank? Alphabetically or chronologically?"

The grogginess in Frank Scanlon begging him to return to bed was evident in his voice over the phone. "Why were you at the hospital? I just got a call from the police. There was a report that the Green Hornet was at St. Luke's Hospital about an hour ago."

"It was Casey," the Hornet explained. "She got sick, _very_ sick. It may have been appendicitis. Do me a favor. Call the hospital and see how she is."

"Will do," Frank promised. "What are you doing?"

"Breaking up a robbery at a diner."

"What?"

The Hornet shook his head. "Long story, Frank, longer than this night has been. We're just driving around. I can't go home because reporters are camped out on the sidewalk, and Mike told the police about the warehouse. We're just trying to stay out of sight until the trial resumes."

"You can come by my place," Frank offered. "I have a privacy fence around the back yard. You can hide your car there."

"Thanks, Frank. We'll be over shortly." The Hornet hung the phone up. "Scanlon's," he said to Kato.

* * *

The Black Beauty snaked through the street toward Frank Scanlon's home. Frank's house sat in a sparsely populated subdivision of identical single-story structures. Several back yards on the street, including Frank's, were enclosed by six-foot high chain link fences with panels woven through the links to keep prying eyes out. A few houses had garages added, but most cars sat in driveways.

When the Black Beauty reached Frank's drive Kato killed the headlights. Frank had been busy since the phone call, having dressed, moved his car from the drive, and opened the double gates to allow the Black Beauty immediate access to the seclusion of the back yard. Kato slid the car into the back yard. Frank, watching for their arrival from the kitchen window, ran out the back door and shut the gates. By the time Frank reached his back door the Hornet and Kato were at his side. The three men hurried into the house in silence. Frank secured the door behind them. The rear entrance brought the men into the eat-in kitchen. A percolator's sound and smell greeted Frank's guests.

"This is a switch," Britt grinned as he laid his green mask on the dining table, "me sneaking into _YOUR_ house."

"Should I make you go up to the roof and come down the chimney?" Frank said with a pat to Britt's shoulder.

"Not unless you let Kato install an elevator first," Britt replied.

"He may find that hard to do, even as brilliant as he is." Frank turned to face Kato, who had also removed his mask. "I don't have a fireplace."

The moment of levity was as welcome as the coffee's aroma. Frank filled three cups of coffee from the percolator. He sat the cups on the table in front of chairs and motioned for Britt and Kato to sit. Britt sank into a chair and devoured most of the coffee in a single gulp. "I have something for you," he said after Frank refilled the cup Britt had drained. He removed the note from his inside pocket. "I found this at Reeves' house. If you can trace it back to Tillman you can put a conspiracy charge on him."

Frank unfolded the paper and read the two lines. "What is this?" he asked.

"Casey said the first line is the same message, just typed with the fingers one key off the normal position on a typewriter," Britt replied, setting the gloves and fedora next to his coffee cup.

Frank folded the paper back. "That shouldn't be too difficult," he said. "Oh, speaking of Miss Case, I called St. Luke's just before you arrived. Miss Case is out of surgery. You were right – it was her appendix."

"Remind me to give her a big raise," Britt said with an amazed shake of his head. "With all the pain she was in, she still had the presence of mind to warn us that Mike was phoning the police."

"They said she'll be fine," Frank assured.

Britt sighed deeply. "That's the best news I've had all night."

"I don't think Axford thought it was good news," Frank said. "One of the policemen I talked to said they went to get his statement but couldn't find him."

Britt's brow wrinkled. "That's not like Mike," he observed, "_especially_ when it comes to blaming things on the Green Hornet."

Frank put his cup on the table and picked up the phone hanging on the wall above a counter top. He read the number of the hospital he had culled from the phone book before dialing. His gaze alternated between Britt and Kato while he waited for an answer. "Yes, ma'am," he said when a hospital operator came on the line, "this is the District Attorney. I need you to page _Sentinel_ reporter Mike Axford, please."

While Frank awaited a reply he covered the phone's mouthpiece with his right hand. "With all that's happened tonight," he said to his guests, "this might not make the headlines. Police found the body of a man a couple of hours ago, shot. I.D. is Randy Lloyd, one of Tillman's known associates."

"Reeves shot him," Britt said. "That was accidental, believe it or not. Reeves intended to shoot the Green Hornet."

"Ah." Frank's attention returned to the phone. "I see. If you would, page him every half hour or so, and have him contact Sergeant Philips at police headquarters or the District Attorney. Thank you." Frank's sigh drowned out the sound of the phone coming to rest in the cradle. "Still no Mike," he announced.

* * *

The whistle of an approaching train sounded outside the house. Mike had heard no such noise during his first encounter with Reeves. The room, with hits antiquated paint and second-hand furnishings, also indicated a dramatic change in locale from Reeves' house.

The ropes stung Mike's wrists, but not as much as the chiding his thoughts gave his conscience. With Porter's gun aimed at Mike's chest the reporter realized how relatively gracious a host the Green Hornet had been. In his zeal to see the Hornet apprehended, Mike instead exchanged one captor for another, more sinister one. The snarl on the face of the pacing Michael Reeves reiterated that the swap of prisons was decidedly not to Mike's benefit.

"What am I going to do with you, Axford?" Reeves mused. "You're all that's left standing between Cornhusker and freedom."

For once Mike managed to control his red-headed hot temper that he normally confirmed as accurate rather than disproved as stereotypic. "I guess you'll hold me until Cornhusker goes free," Mike suggested, "then I tell the police about the Green Hornet killing Britt Reid and holding me hostage to make sure that Cornhusker was released for lack of evidence."

Porter pondered Mike's recommendation. "Not bad," he commented to Reeves.

"But why would the Green Hornet care about Cornhusker," Reeves said, "_especially_ after we double-crossed him?"

"Who knows that we did?" Porter asked with a wave of the gun. "And what's the Hornet gonna do – call the cops and report that he's been robbed?"

Reeves ceased pacing. His scowl vanished, replaced by a smile. "Yeah!" he said. After a few moments of silence Reeves' smile grew wider. "And I know just how to sell it, too!" He grabbed a phone book and hurriedly turned to the _S_'s. Reeves dialed the number his finger underlined in the phone book. He smiled while waiting for the party on the other end to answer.

* * *

During a lull in the conversation that flowed with the coffee, Frank's gaze fixed on the gold fob watch and green mask that lay on the table next to Britt's coffee cup. The District Attorney recalled how difficult his job had been prior to the advent of the Green Hornet, and the vast improvement in the conviction rates once evidence showed up "anonymously" at his office. The Green Hornet went where no search warrant could. While the city saw the Hornet as a menace, Frank considered him the best friend the law could have.

Additionally, Frank appreciated the fact that it was Britt Reid behind the mask. Another man might have become a vigilante and thereby more hindrance than aide to the law. Britt told Frank when he introduced the criminal alter ego that frontier justice was emphatically not part of the equation. As Britt told Casey, he sought revenge, but not by his own hand. Britt was one of the few men that Frank knew who was level headed enough to walk the fine line that the Green Hornet required.

"Have you thought about a 'not guilty' verdict, Frank?" Britt asked quietly, fingering the watch before returning it to his coat pocket.

"Oh, yes," Frank admitted, "and that scares me. You know, I've tried getting records on him from his days in Nebraska. The authorities won't talk about him, and he left there over three years ago!"

"Why did he leave Nebraska?" Kato asked.

"He was running from the income tax charges," Frank said. He chuckled before he continued, "I suppose he didn't think we have feds here."

"What we **do** have here is close access to Canada," Britt said. "Perhaps he thought he could make it across the river before he got caught."

"Where did Judge Branson figure into that?" Kato asked.

"Tillman was in prison for the income tax evasion charges," Frank explained. "It was the only thing the federal boys could get to stick. He was sentenced to five years, but released after three months. He paid Branson ten thousand dollars to forge a federal release order."

"The problem is," Britt said, "there's no tangible proof. The forged release order mysteriously disappeared after Tillman left prison."

"So why did Tillman kill Branson?"

"Branson apparently had an attack of conscience," Frank said. "He told Tillman he was going to come clean on forging the release order. The story is that Tillman asked to meet him for lunch, ostensibly for the purpose of paying Branson more money to just retire from the bench and keep quiet."

"But instead of money," Britt concluded, "Tillman gave him a bullet. Like Reeves said earlier, why pay for what you can get for free?"

Frank's phone rang. "That must be Mike," Britt said. "Do you have another phone? I want to hear what he says."

Frank pointed to the arched doorway that led to the rest of the house from the kitchen. "On the wall, just outside the kitchen," he said. Frank went to the kitchen phone while Britt took the hallway phone. The two men could see each other, and both picked up the receivers simultaneously. "Scanlon," Frank answered with his office formality.

"Hello, Mr. D.A.!" Reeves said. "This is the Green Hornet."

Britt and Frank exchanged surprised glances across the kitchen. "The Green Hornet?" Frank repeated. The mention of the name caused Kato's head to jerk in surprise in the direction of the attorney.

"Yep," Reeves said. "Here's the story in a nutshell, Scanlon. I killed Britt Reid last night, and I have your last material witness, Axford, here with me."

"What?" Frank said. "Why, you…"

"Yeah, yeah," Reeves interrupted. He paused for a moment to allow the blare of a train whistle to subside. "You have no case now, and even if you _did_ no jury's gonna run the risk of convicting my new ally, Cornhusker Tillman, after seeing how I treat the witnesses. When he's free, Scanlon, we're coming for you!"

Reeves slammed the receiver down. He gave Mike a sinister smile. "There, Axford," he said. "The Green Hornet just confessed. You can back that story up, or…" Reeves' angry smile vanished. "You'll be on those tracks outside when the next freight train comes by!"

Frank and Britt met at the table. "Now what?" Frank sighed. "If you testify they'll kill Axford. I know you, Britt. You won't put his life in danger."

Britt replayed the call in his mind. "That was Michael Reeves," he said. "I'm sure that was his voice. But…" Britt stopped and snapped his fingers. "The train!"

"What train?"

"Didn't you hear a train whistle in the background?"

"How could you miss it?"

"Call transportation." Britt checked his wristwatch for the time. "Find out what trains were at or near any crossings in the city between 5:02 and 5:05."

"Alright," Frank said slowly, "but why?"

"By law, trains have to sound their whistles at railroad crossings," Britt explained. "If we can pinpoint what crossings had trains near them, we might be able to find Mike before the trial resumes."

Frank picked up the receiver. "It's a long shot," he mumbled. "They could've been calling from a phone booth."

Britt nodded. "It is, but it's all we've got. You're this close to nailing Tillman." Britt held his fingers up as if pinching a grain of salt between them. "I don't want to see him get away."


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The Black Beauty was back on the streets, racing the impending dawn as well as any police who might be around. People would soon start to rise to prepare for the day ahead, and some neighbor might see the notorious automobile while retrieving the morning paper or taking the dog for a pre-dawn walk. Prior to their departure, Britt developed an alibi for Frank, should anyone report seeing the Green Hornet: star witness Britt Reid had been dropped off at the District Attorney's house by the criminal who had kept him hidden through the night.

The phone in the back buzzed. The Hornet turned to see which light was blinking, an indication as to who was calling. An automated switching device that Kato designed and installed on Britt's phones at home forwarded calls to the Black Beauty. The system also scrambled the signals, making tracing or recording the calls impossible. Two main numbers were used, one by Frank and the other by Casey, although calls to Britt's other phones, or even his _Sentinel_ private line, could be forwarded as well.

"Yes, Frank?" the Hornet said after lifting the receiver to his ear and pushing the blinking button.

"I just heard from the transportation office," Frank said. "In that three-minute space there were a total of four trains at or near crossings in the city. One was at the airport, taking freight to a cargo plane, so we can throw that one out. If Reeves had been there, we wouldn't have heard the train for all the airplanes."

"Right. What about the other three?"

Frank slid his glasses onto his face to read the notes he had scribbled. "One was downtown," he said, "near the armory. The second was on Cherry Street, in an older neighborhood. The last one was on Ford Avenue, near the police station."

"I'll check that one first," the Hornet joked.

"You do that," Frank said sarcastically. "I'm not working enough overtime thanks to the Tillman case. I need the extra workload with the Green Hornet getting caught."

The Hornet laughed. "Thanks, Frank. I'll see you in court." The Hornet hung up the phone. He inspected mental snapshots of the vicinities Frank had mentioned.

Kato watched the Hornet's face through the mirror. "Where to?" he asked.

"Frank gave three areas," the Hornet said. "Let's try Cherry Street first. It's not too far from St. Luke's hospital."

While Kato steered the Black Beauty toward the first locale to be checked the Hornet picked his phone up again. He pressed the button that automatically dialed, via the phone in Britt Reid's den, the main switchboard number of the _Daily Sentinel_. "Tim Wilson's desk, please," he said when the operator answered the phone. Because of the late hour when the Hornet and Tim briefly met in the diner, the Hornet was slightly surprised to hear Tim's voice on the other end of the line, answering his phone. "Tim? This is Britt Reid."

"Mr. Reid!" Tim shouted joyously. "I'm so happy to hear from you!"

"Believe me, it's good to be heard from after someone puts a contract out on you. That's why I called. I wanted to let you know I'm alive."

"I already knew that, sir."

"How?"

"Please don't tell Mr. Axford I said this, sir. I ran into the Green Hornet overnight. He told me."

"Why shouldn't I tell Mike?"

"Well, the Hornet wasn't all that mean. He even broke up a robbery at the diner I was at. He told me he didn't like small-time hoods, so his chauffeur beat the daylights out of the guy. Anyway, he told me he had you in 'protective custody' after the attempt on your life, but he told me not to tell anyone until I heard from you."

"Guess what, Tim, you _still_ can't tell anyone. I want it to be a complete surprise when I walk into court later this morning. Let the staff know, but tell them no broadcasting the information."

"How did the Green Hornet get involved in this, sir?" Tim asked.

"Tillman ordered his right-hand man to hire him to kill me."

"And he _didn't_? Wow!" Tim mused the final word almost to himself.

The Hornet smiled at Tim's reaction. "Fortunately, for me, the Green Hornet hates Carl Tillman more than my editorials. Apparently he suspected Tillman's men weren't going to pay him. They said they didn't have the money to pay him when they first met, and it was obvious that if they didn't have the money at seven, after the banks were closed, they weren't going to have it at ten, after I was dead. So, he warned me about the assassination attempt."

"May I ask something, sir?" Tim said. "With everything that I've heard about the Green Hornet…well, the question is: did you have to pay him?"

"No. The only payment he wants is my testimony against Tillman. That's why you have to stay quiet until the trial resumes."

"Will do, Mr. Reid. I'll see you there!" Tim hung up and left his desk to share the joyous news with a somber _Sentinel_ staff.

After the Hornet hung up he turned back toward the front of the car. Kato's eyes were waiting for him. "Why stay silent about being alive?" Kato asked.

"I'm assuming Reeves picked up Mike at the hospital, so they must've heard that he was there over a police scanner. They know, or suspect, that the Green Hornet held Mike hostage at one point during the night. If word gets out that Britt Reid is still alive, they might accuse Mike of having some knowledge of the double-cross and kill him. Even if they don't harm Mike, they might try something at the courthouse, and some innocent bystanders might get hurt."

"And Tillman's men have already proved they don't care who gets hurt," Kato commented. He took his eyes off the road as long as he dared in order to study his partner's facial expression. "If we can't find Mike, are you still going to testify?"

"Let's find Mike," the Hornet replied, "so I don't have to make that decision."

* * *

The four members of Tillman's gang congregated in the front room. Porter and Delmore lounged at opposite ends of the sofa in varying stages of sleep. Reeves' form slouched in the upholstered chair, leaving the last member of the gang to stand watch over Mike. With the reporter secured to the chair he sat in, Mike scarcely needed guarding. The only movement from Mike was an occasional roll of his neck as he attempted to find a position conducive to a little sleep. _Boy, Mike_, his sleep-deprived mind chided, _you blew it this time. When will you ever learn to listen to Britt? The Green Hornet was gonna release me. There's no way Reeves will. I know too much. He's probably gonna throw me out there on those train tracks, and…_

The exploding door lock disrupted Mike's thoughts of finality and remorse. The door flew open, freeing the space for the Green Hornet to enter. In the dimly lit living room the Hornet appeared more in darkness than light, but there was no mistaking the imposing figure.

The noise jarred the criminals out of their complacency like an earthquake. The man near Mike instinctively turned the gun that had been pointed in Mike's general direction toward the door. In response the Hornet aimed the Hornet Sting at the gun. The revolver was as helpless against the bombardment of the Hornet Sting's ultrasonic beam as the door lock had been. The gun barrel disintegrated and the man dropped the gun in surprise.

"Okay, Reeves," the Hornet growled, "you owe me a hundred thousand dollars. I want it, either in cash or in flesh." The Hornet closed the Hornet Sting with a deliberate loudness.

The four men recovered their senses from the relatively serene sleep that had vanished when the Hornet charged into the room. The formed a small pack, huddled together as much for a sense of protection as out of fear. They focused their attention singularly on the masked man at the door.

Reeves sensed that he would lose a battle even thought the opponent was outnumbered. Reasoning with the angered man seemed the only option, although the steely stare from beneath the fedora indicated the Hornet was in no mood to negotiate. "Listen, Hornet," Reeves stammered, "I wouldn't double-cross you on my own. I was only following orders from Cornhusker."

"That's a lie!"

The stern declaration from Mike Axford startled everyone in the room. All eyes turned toward the reporter. "He called the District Attorney," Mike said to the Hornet, "pretending to be you. He told him you had killed Britt Reid, and that you and Tillman were forming an alliance once Tillman was acquitted."

The slightest hint of a smile appeared on the Hornet's lips in reaction to Mike's unprecedented move of being in the Hornet's corner. "Bad move, Reeves," the Hornet said. "Tillman's behind bars right now, so you're safe from him." The Hornet took two steps toward the man. "You're _not_ safe from me."

The loud shout from behind the group pulled the men's collective attention off the Hornet and toward the source of the noise. Kato charged into the room from the back of the house, where he had entered through a rear door that had offered little resistance to a well-executed gung fu kick.

Reeves put his hands up in reaction to a blow he thought was coming. Kato saw the motion and sprang into action. He leapt into the air, aiming his foot at the nearest opponent. Porter happened to be the unlucky individual. Kato's imprinted his footprint on Porter's back, directly between the shoulder blades. Porter fell forward from the force of the kick.

The man who had been guarding Mike picked up an end table and threw it in the general direction of the Hornet. The movement took enough time for the Hornet to anticipate it and take evasive action. The small wooden table sailed over the Hornet's head as he ducked, crashing into pieces against the wall. The Hornet moved toward the man while still crouched down. The Hornet stood up with an uppercut successfully aimed at the man's chin. The power jerked the man's head backward and his body followed suit.

On the floor, Porter recovered and grabbed the Hornet's feet. The Hornet softened his stance to allow a controlled fall to the floor. As the Hornet fell Porter released his legs and started to get to his feet to take a stand over the Hornet. As Porter managed to pull himself to his knees the Hornet shoved both feet firmly into Porter's stomach, knocking him off balance.

Kato moved toward the front of the living room to join his partner in the fight. As he did the man the Hornet had punched tried to get to his feet. Kato shot his left foot out behind him, giving the man a taste of the leather shoe on his foot. The man collapsed quickly to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Reeves, thinking Kato was distracted, moved toward him. In a black flash Kato's left foot was back on the ground. He spun and provided Reeves with a similar introduction to his foot. Reeves spun to his right from the force of the blow but maintained his balance. Delmore caught Reeves and the two of them started toward Kato together. Kato smiled at the two advancing men, causing a nervous twinge in their stomachs. In an instant Kato had given both men body kicks.

Delmore left Reeves to fend for himself against Kato, choosing to take his chances with the Hornet. He fared no better, finding the Hornet's black gloves pounding against his stomach, chest, and face. Delmore managed to take just one wild swing at the Hornet. Delmore's only contact was with the Hornet's hat, a swing that barely moved the fedora. One more blow from the Hornet sent Delmore to the floor.

Reeves stood near Kato, no longer bold. Kato moved in without hesitation, each of the four chops accompanied by a shout. He finished Reeves off with a blow to the neck.

Porter returned to his knees and put his arms into the air to surrender. "Please, Hornet," he said, "I'm just a foot soldier, honest. Please don't kill me." The Hornet pulled out the Hornet Gun. The sight of the weapon caused Porter's shoulder's to slump. The sight of gas instead of bullets relieved the man in the instant before he fell unconscious.

Kato stood in an attack position in the center of the room, watching for a hint of movement. Only his partner and the hostage were capable of moving. The Hornet visited each of the other fallen criminals, putting a puff of green gas beneath their noses to keep them unconscious until the time the police could arrive.

The Hornet adjusted his hat then returned the Hornet Gun to his inside coat pocket. He moved toward Mike, anger evident in the cold stare aimed at the reporter. "You called the cops in the hospital," the Hornet growled, "didn't you?" Mike looked away in embarrassment as he tried to decipher how the Hornet knew. The Hornet grabbed Mike's shoulders and provided a firm shake. "Didn't you?" he repeated forcefully. Mike gave an affirmative nod of his head as his eyes rose no further than the green tie the Hornet wore. "I hope Reid chews you out so hard you can't sit down for a week," the Hornet snapped as he released Mike's shoulders. He turned toward the door. Kato walked past the unconscious men who lay strewn about the floor like litter to join the Hornet.

"Hey!" Mike called. The two masked men turned in unison. "What about me?"

"What **_about_** you?" the Hornet asked sarcastically.

"Are you gonna untie me?" Mike said.

"No, I'm not," the Hornet replied.

"But…"

"I offered you a ride to the courthouse, Axford. You turned it down. I'm going to place an anonymous call to the police. You can get a ride from them." The Hornet turned toward the door and left, Kato two steps behind him.

The Hornet picked up the phone as soon as he settled into the back seat of the Black Beauty. Kato shut the door for the Hornet as the phone on the other end connected. "Scanlon."

"Frank? Pick 'em up at 331 Cherry Street."

Frank wrote the address down. "Got it."

"We left Mike there for the police to free," the Hornet said, "and as a witness."

"I'll get some squad cars out there right away. See you in court."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The anesthetic fog finally dissipated, leaving Casey feeling more awake than asleep. The first thing she saw once her eyes opened and adjusted to the light was the bottle of clear liquid hanging upside down from a T bar. The tube meandered from the end of the bottle to a needle secured in Casey's left arm.

Her mind slowly refocused with her vision. She remembered the horrific pain, now reduced to a dull ache thanks to the precise work of the surgeon and the wonders of modern medicine. She also recalled seeing Kato in his valet uniform in the hospital as she was brought to her room. _Or was that a dream_, Casey pondered. She saw a terrycloth bathrobe neatly draped on a chair near her bed, monogrammed with Britt's initials. The momentary break from unconsciousness played in her mind. She had indeed seen Kato, responsible for bringing her the robe.

The nurse removed the thermometer from Casey's mouth. She studied the location of the mercury amid the numbers written on the glass tube. "Very good," she announced as she shook the thermometer. Casey's nurse was older and clad in traditional white. She made the annotations in Casey's chart. "Everything looks fine, Miss Case," the nurse smiled.

"May I have that robe?" Casey asked.

The nurse hung Casey's chart on the end of the bed before retrieving the robe. "Your boss's butler brought this by for you," she said. "He told me to let you know everything was all right, and that Mr. Reid would be by to see you when he finished in court." The bed was adjusted to allow Casey to recline at a 45 degree angle. After Casey was upright the nurse slid the robe between her back and the mattress, adjusting the garment over her shoulders. "I thought Mr. Reid was killed last night," the nurse commented as she worked, "but that young man said he was fine."

Casey smiled with a deep breath. "It's a long story," she said. "You'll no doubt be able to read about it in tomorrow's _Sentinel_." Casey's stomach emitted an audible grumble. "When can I eat?" she asked the nurse. "I haven't had a thing since yesterday at lunch."

"Be glad you hadn't eaten when you took ill," the nurse advised. "If you thought you were sick on an empty stomach, a _full_ stomach…"

Her thought was interrupted by Mike Axford barreling into Casey's private room. "Guilty!" he announced with a gleeful, singing tone. "Cornhusker's guilty!"

Tim Wilson walked in behind Mike. He was smiling but lacked the other physical expressions of joy Mike exhibited. "Hi, Miss Case," he said in his customary soft tone.

The nurse turned for the door. "You'll have something to eat soon, Miss Case," she called before she left.

Casey's skin was pale, and the after-effects of her medical ordeal were evident on her face. Still, she smiled upon seeing her co-workers. "What happened?" she asked.

"Oh, Casey," Mike said, "you should've _seen_ Tillman's face. The first thing that happened this morning was the judge charged Tillman with conspiracy to kill Britt. Tillman's chin was on the floor. Then, when Mr. Scanlon stepped up and said, 'I call as my first witness Britt Reid', ho boy, was Tillman shocked! I wish I'd had a camera with me. That look on his face when Britt took the stand was _priceless_."

"After Mr. Reid testified," Tim continued, "Sinclair was frantic. He didn't ask any questions, he just started rattling off accusations against Mr. Reid and the _Sentinel_. Poor Mr. Scanlon didn't get to sit down for five minutes, what with all the objections he was raising. The judge told Sinclair if he said one more word he'd be held in contempt of court."

"So," Mike said, gesturing with his hands for emphasis, "Sinclair requests a recess right after Scanlon calls me as a witness and they swear me in. We come back, and bang! Tillman's changed his plea to guilty. Once he found out his men were in custody, he even pleaded guilty to hiring the Green Hornet to kill Britt. He threw himself on the 'mercy of the court'."

"On the 'mercy of the court'?" Casey repeated. "After shooting a judge?"

"That's what we said," Mike said with a laugh. "Tillman will be lucky if Judge Clement doesn't have an electric chair installed in the courtroom when he's sentenced!"

Tim stood by Casey's bed. "How are you, Miss Case?"

"Fine," she replied. "You know, Tim, the Green Hornet saved my life." She restrained her smile as her eyes immediately shifted to Mike to watch his reaction to her statement.

"Bah!" Mike snorted at the mention of the name.

"It's true, Mike. The doctor said another half an hour and my appendix would have ruptured."

"I'll bet you have quite a story to tell," Tim said. "May I talk to you about it when you're well?"

"Sure, Tim."

Britt opened the door to Casey's room. He saw the two reporters at Casey's bed. "Okay," he said, jerking his thumb toward the corridor, "hospital rules only allow two visitors. You two have to leave."

"We were here first," Mike protested.

"Yes, you were, Mike, but I have seniority," Britt grinned. "Anyway," he added, "you two have assignments to complete. Mike, I want to see your Tillman editorial in three hours."

Mike bounded to Britt's side. "You got it, Boss," he said with a hearty pat of Britt's shoulder. "C'mon, Tim," he called as he reached the door. He left the room, but Tim lingered at Casey's bedside.

"I believe you about the Green Hornet, Miss Case," Tim said. "I ran into him last night, and he wasn't as bad as Mr. Axford presented him. He broke up a robbery, and he told me Mr. Reid was alive. He was almost _nice_ to me."

Mike stuck his head inside the door. "You coming, Tim?"

"Sure," Tim replied. He leaned close to Casey and whispered, "Don't tell Mr. Axford what I said about the Green Hornet, please."

Casey smiled. "I promise."

"See you later, Miss Case," Tim said. He turned for the door, stopping in front of Britt. "Thanks for giving me the opportunity to cover a big story, Mr. Reid."

"You did a good job, Tim. You're going to be an asset to the _Sentinel_ for years to come."

"Thanks, Mr. Reid," Tim said with a hint of red creeping across his face. He closed the door behind him.

"You need to make him the crime reporter permanently," Casey suggested. "He _likes_ the Green Hornet."

"Now, what would the Green Hornet do without Mike hounding his every move?" Britt asked. He walked to Casey's bedside and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "How are you?"

"A little sore from the surgery," Casey replied, "but I feel fine. I can't thank you enough for sticking your neck out for me to get me here."

"And I can't thank you enough for turning your transmitter on to warn us," Britt whispered.

"I don't know why I did," Casey said, a mischievous gleam in her brown eyes. "I mean, after that date last night…"

Britt held up his hand with his index finger extended to stop Casey. "I have that on my calendar, as soon as you're well," he promised. He went to the door and pulled it open. "Meanwhile…" Britt leaned out the door and motioned into the corridor. He returned to Casey's side and took a seat in a chair next to her bed.

The door opened again and Kato backed in, pulling a serving cart. The aromas from the cart reached Casey first. Kato pushed the large table to the side of the bed. "Your lunch, Miss Case," he announced with a bow. Britt smiled as Casey watched Kato set a plate of chicken parmesan, potatoes, and white corn on her hospital tray. An identical plate remained on the cart for Britt. "We checked with your doctor to make sure this is permissible," Kato assured Casey.

Britt removed the fork from his rolled-up linen napkin and began to enjoy his lunch. Casey received pampered treatment from Kato, who unrolled the napkin for her. Even with the hunger pangs begging her to eat Casey ignored the food for a moment to watch Britt. The argument about her emotional attachment to her boss renewed itself in her mind. She shooed the thoughts away. Whether she suffered from love or a crush, she knew one unarguable fact: Britt Reid commanded her utmost respect.

"Thank you," Casey beamed, overwhelmed by her boss's gesture.

"What?" Britt said with a wink and a grin. "You expect me to let you eat hospital food after I stood you up for dinner last night?"

**THE END**


End file.
